Big Daddy Autism

Griffin is more obsessed with talking about his own health than Richard Simmons and Jack LaLanne combined. The thing he is, he is all talk and no exercise or dietary restraint. Irrespective, he takes his health seriously. A great example of this is a recent father-son outing to Steak –n- Shake, that bastion of healthy eating!

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The milkshakes had arrived and the food was on the on the way. So, all was good with Big Daddy and Griffin. Then it happened.   He started to panic and blurted;

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“I will not die! I will not die! I will not die! I will not die! I will not die!”

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Since milkshakes are a regular part of his diet, I was surprised that he would, all of sudden, be concerned with cholesterol or triglycerides.  But no.  Once there was a brief break in the hysteria, I ascertained that his fear of immediate death was brought upon by getting a tiny piece of the straw wrapper in his mouth.

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Yup, the kid who eats Doritos by the case and used to dine on dirt, was now convinced his time in this world was about to end because a miniscule piece of paper touched the inside of his mouth. Though I was able to calm him down a bit, he spent the next several days wiping his tongue ferociously.

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I’m still not altogether convinced that he believes he is out of the woods from the accidental straw wrapper consumption. We are monitoring the situation closely.

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Griffin is a sloppy eater.  Very sloppy. Our dog loves that he is a sloppy eater because our dog’s diet consists mainly of whatever Griffin drops on the floor.  This works out pretty well in that it saves Mrs. Big Daddy from washing the floor and I get to share my cholesterol medicine with our morbidly obese dog.

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Recently, Griffin came bopping out of his room and threw a plate in the sink. That clue, and the fact that he was wearing more than half a slice on his shirt and face, led us to believe he had been snacking on some apple pie.

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Right before his grand entrance, the rest of the family had been wondering where the dog had been for the past hour or so.  Griffin’s appearance implied an answer.  However, we wanted to make sure we didn’t leave him in the back yard chasing squirrels so we asked Griffin if he’d seen the little canine.

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Griffin replied;

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“He is in my room eating leftovers.”

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I’m not sure I would have called food that falls on the floor “leftovers,” but we got what he meant.  However, consider this post as a warning to all future house guests to be leery if Griffin offers you “leftovers” when you visit.

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A recent homework assignment required Griffin to name his hero and give three reasons why he chose that person.  Despite some serious lobbying and bribery, alas, Big Daddy was not chosen. Griffin chose his mommy, Mrs. Big Daddy.

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It is cute that a 15 year old would choose his mommy as his hero.  However, before we start “oohing” and “ahhing” about it, let us take a look at his three reasons behind the adorable choice;

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1.  She feeds me.

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2.  She keeps me safe.

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3.  I forgot.

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Anyone who knows Griffin knows that number one was a no brainer. Number two seems pretty logical.  It’s number three where he goes off the rails.  I’m sure he’ll come up with something the next time Mrs. Big Daddy travels 30 miles out of her way so he can see new traffic lights and ride elevators at a mall he’s never visited before.

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Actually, there are about 15,000 reasons why his mom is his hero.  One them being she’d let him get away with being lazy and not coming up with a good third reason why she’s his hero on the homework assignment. He knows it. We all do.

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As for me being overlooked for this honor, I’m not surprised.  If I’m in the mood for a Whopper, I’ll take him to Burger King.  Other than that, despite my aggressive efforts, even I can’t come up with two more in my favor.  Maybe I’ll try to distract him from the real issues with cookies and milkshakes in my next campaign.

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Since Griffin is approaching fifteen years of age, Mrs. Big Daddy and I have been leaving him alone in the house for a few minutes at a time every now and again.  He is an excellent rule follower and, usually, when we return, he is right where we left him – watching elevator videos or classic Wilford Brimley Liberty Medical commercials on You Tube.

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As you, my dear and loyal readers know, Friday is Pizza Night at Casa de Big Daddy.  It is, far and away, Griffin’s and Big Daddy’s favorite night of the week.  One recent Friday, immediately after Mrs. Big Daddy made the call for delivery, the need for both adults and Lil Sis to leave the house for a short time arose.  The details of our simultaneous errands are irrelevant, although the end result was Griffin alone in the house while the pizza delivery guy was set to arrive in 30 – 40 minutes.

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I was certain to be back home in time, however, while I was out and about, I couldn’t help notice how much our present circumstances resembled Schrödinger’s Cat Thought Experiment / Paradox.  Yeah that’s how my mind works.

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Griffin is strict about the “no answering the door no matter what rule.”  But he also loves pizza.  Also, Griffin is completely clueless about the concept of money and the fact that the pizza delivery guy would be expecting some before turning over the goods.  I am also fairly certain, the pizza deliver guy would be just as clueless about the concept (and reality) of Griffin as Griffin is of the concept (and reality) that food costs money.

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In Schrödinger’s much simpler experiment, the cat in the box was both alive and dead at the same time in the absence of an observer.  Likewise, with no observer (i.e. adult) present in Casa de Big Daddy, as long as both Mrs. Big Daddy and I were on our errands, the pizza had both been delivered and not been delivered.   (If anyone is confused at this point, Google Schrödinger and you are certain to become even more confused.)

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It was only when Schrödinger opened his box that he would be able to tell if the cat was dead or alive.  He could never know while the box remained closed.  Similarly, only when either Mrs. BD or I arrived home would we know whether the pizza guy had been there or not.  Mind you, either way, there absolutely, positively would be no pizza in the house.  However, if the door bell had rang while we were gone, Griffin would talk incessantly about the experience for a period of time which would need carbon dating to calculate.  Schrödinger has no idea how lucky he is that cats can’t speak.

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