June 20th, 2011

Pumpkinhead

It’s Not Every Day Your Young Man Turns 11

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. Please leave any comments there.

It’s shaping up to be a good week all around.  Today is Monday, and 5 out 6 of my needs on Maslow’s hierarchy have been met – and it’s not even 0730.  Plus, Number One Son turns 11 today, and he and I have already been up for an hour or so, singing songs and eating cold leftover pizza for breakfast. 

Some days, it doesn’t get better than this, and at 11 years old I think he’s starting to get it.  Happy Birthday to Number One Son!

Pumpkinhead

Birthday After-Action Report: Screw the Song!

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. Please leave any comments there.

Oh God, here we go.

You have to understand, there are whole minutes at a time when we forget that Number One Son is different.  The big pharmaceutical companies do their jobs well, and he does great on his meds, and he can go for just minutes and minutes without straying too far from the bounds of what society considers “normal.”  He’s in public school, and he’s not just succeeding, he’s excelling.  It’s great.

But he is not, in fact, like most people, and he really doesn’t care about what society considers “normal.”  Not even a bit.  Just wouldn’t occur to him.  And at home, when his meds have worn off, we’re all good with that – this is his safe zone, and it’s all a constructive training exercise for the real world. 

Just when I thought I’d seen everything, it’s time for cake.  Due to a rolling birthday dinner, early presents, and late icing – to look like a chess board, as requested – the cake was the last part of the festivities; the dinner was long gone and the presents were long opened.  On with the cake!  On with the candles!  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-and-one-to-grow-by!  Two quick matches and I have 12 candles lit, lights out, and the rest of us – SOBUMD, the RQoP, the Human Tape Recorder, and myself – begin to sing.

Group, singing:  Happy Birthday to You!
Number One Son, speaking:  Screw the song.
Group, singing:  Happy Birthday to You!
Number One Son, Yelling:  Screw The Song!
Group, singing:  Happy Birthday…
Number One Son, blowing:  Whfffffffffffffffffffffff!  [blows out all the candles]
Group:  Uh…
Number One Son:  Well, I SAID screw the song.
Group, recovering:  Happy Birthday to yoooooooooooooooooooooooooou!

We laughed our asses off.  In my entire 42 years on this planet, I have never seen someone blow the damn candles out on their cake before the song was over.  It didn’t occur to me that you could do that.  I just would never have thought of it.   

We’ll never get through another birthday without laughing like loons.  “Screw the Song!” just became the cake-hungry rallying cry of the rest of my kids. 

Of course, the HTR had the last word:  “Well, it’s not like we can carry much of a tune…”