My Little Wise-Guy

"Good night," I say.

"Good night."

"I love you," I say.

"I love you."

"Sweet dreams," I say.

"Sweet dreams."

"Mommy rocks," I say.

"Good night."

He doesn't even miss a beat. I guess all that work on pragmatic speech has paid off in impeccable comic timing.

Literally speaking

Gus can be very literal minded, as can all kids, and sometimes he takes it to the most endearing extent. This was a conversation we had yesterday morning:

It was pretty frosty in the house, and we have no pellets to make a fire, so I tried to tell him to go upstairs and get his robe. Of course he ignored me. So, I said, "Okay, now fly upstairs and get your robe so I can help you put it on."

He looked at me, head to the side. "Um...I think I have to walk."

Taking advantage of my momentary ambush, I replied, "No, no! You have to fly up the stairs!"

"It's too far," he whined. Of course it was; that's why I didn't go myself.

"That's why I told you to fly - much faster." So hard to keep a straight face at that point.

"Do I have to pretend to fly on top of an airplane or something?" So literal minded, this one.

"Nah, just..." and here I kind of put one fist up, ala Superman, and mimed bounding into the air. "Whoosh!"

And so he did. He got his robe. He also forgot to come back downstairs, so I had to make a trip up anyway, but who cares. It was fun while it lasted.

Yet, at other times when some children would let their literal mindedness upset them, Gus is just fine.

Our neighbor was putting up a six-foot Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Halloween decoration as the kids ran around it playing. Gus kept poking them, so we joked that if he kept it up, the vampire-Tigger was going to eat him up. Gus laughed at that; the neighbor's four year old started to cry.

"I don't want Tigger to eat him up!" She was really quite inconsolable. This is the same kid who can watch Pirates of the Caribbean without blinking twice.

They really are fascinating beings, children are.

The Problem with Pragmatics

Pragmatic, or social, speech is a problem for Gus, and this is pretty typical of individuals on the autism spectrum. No big news there. Because of his difficulty in grasping the different connotations of words and because of his very literal mind, I now have a child who is terrified of Tootsie Rolls. Honestly I don't know how we got there, but there we are.

It all started two days ago. We have a prize box where the kids can pick prizes from when they received enough stars on their charts for good behavior. Any manner of thing can end up in that box, such as the Tootsie Roll push light that someone had given Gus at the end of last school year that had ended up in a cabinet. So Gus chose the light for his prize and I thought all was well.

That night, he asked, "What's a Tootsie Roll?"

"It's a candy."

"Is it good for you?"

"Well, no. Candy isn't really good for you."

I should have seen the slope getting slippery, but it was late and I just wanted to get his brushing and compressions done. When he asked what would happen, I should have thought longer before I spoke.

"Well, too much candy can make you sick and it can give you cavities."

Isn't this a typical response about the evils of candy? Ah, but I'm not dealing with a typical child, am I?

"If I eat a Tootsie Roll, I'll get sick." The bottom lip started to quiver, the eyes started to water, the breath started to hitch. Within a second, he was full out crying. Stupid mommy. "I'm gonna diiiiiie!"

Of course all my attempts at damage control were pointless because once he latches onto something with that wonderful perseveration of his, it's all over. But I had to try.

"You won't die from eating a Tootsie Roll. I said that if you eat too many you might get a tummy ache or cavities. You won't die from those."

"I'm gonna get sick and die!"

I tried everything - even making funny faces to snap him out of it. Finally, the faces somewhat worked. He told, through sniffles, that he didn't want to be copied. We were saved from a major meltdown because of my extraordinary facial control.

I thought the drama was done, and obviously I'm still a stupid mommy.

We went through almost an identical scenario tonight, except this time I didn't let it go on so long. For one thing, my patience was much shorter tonight. Finally, I asked, "Do you want a Tootsie Roll? Is that it?"

"No! I'll get sick!"

"You won't get sick. Do you want a Tootsie Roll?"

"If someone gives me a Tootsie Roll, I'll get sick!"

"Did someone give you a Tootsie Roll?"

"No."

Now I was wondering if there was some talk of stranger danger or something going on at school to bring this up.

"No one's going to give you a Tootsie Roll."

"But if they put it in my mouth I have to spit it out or I'll get sick."

"Okay." I didn't have the energy to debate it any more. It was bad of me, I'm sure. But thankfully, he let it drop and he went to bed. No tears tonight over the candy.

Then I just had to console him over the Pirate story he asked me to read that set him to tears. I can do nothing right this week, apparently.