Big Daddy Autism

I have a killer chest and head cold. Yup. Right now I am oozing and coughing germs all over my screen and key board.  Regular readers know that, basically, all my internal organs are in a state of fairly rapid entropy for a 46 year old guy. However, I rarely get a cold. Got one now.

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I’m fairly certain you can’t catch it over the interwebs.  But just to be sure, I would hit the Purell pretty hard after reading this post. I’m hoping to feel better soon since I’ve been ingesting gallons of our old family secret cold and cough remedy – Heroin and Robo DM Cocktails. I find that Black Tar Smack works best if the cough is in your upper chest. Go for the China White if it’s deep down.

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This is the first time I have been ambling around the house in about 24 hours and haven’t seen much of the kids. Popped my head to tell Lil Sis I love her and then went to do the same with Griffin. He was excited to see me and we embarked on this lovely conversation;

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Griffin:  “Hey Daddy!! Why are you wearing a bathrobe?”

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Me:  “Um, I’m sick. Been in bed for a solid day.”

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Griffin: “Oh no! Are you feeling better?”

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Me (Beaming from the apparent empathy): “I am Griff. I’m feeling a little better. Thank you so much for asking!”

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Griffin:  “Okay. Enjoy your cold!”

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At this point he turned back to his computer to watch a You Tube video of some tornado destroying a trailer park in the Midwest circa 1950. Me? I’m just sitting here “enjoying” my cold.

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PS: No. My bathrobe is not a “shorty-robe.” That’s just disgusting.

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I received a nice sized check in the mail the other day. Unfortunately it was not a royalty check from sales of my extraordinarily funny book. Nope, it was a refund from our state run prepaid college plan. I cried when I saw it.  The only time in my life that I’ve cried while holding a large check made payable to me.

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When Griffin was born (Lil Sis too) we dutifully signed him up for the aforementioned state run prepaid college plan. I paid it in a lump sum and went on to dream about that day I would see him stroll across the stage at the University of Florida (sorry Canes and ‘Noles) and wave at me as he grabbed his diploma and embarked on his adult life.

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It has been several years since we’ve known that this dream was just that, a dream. It has long been apparent that Griffin would not being going to college.  Several weeks ago, we made it official. I contacted the state and with the support and assistance of Griffin’s team (Psychiatrist, Psychologist, Social Worker ….) I requested the refund. Done.

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He’s going on 16. I have no idea what his adult life will be like. But at this point, we know it doesn’t include Frat parties and a B.A. from a major university.

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This has been a long time coming. We have talked about this for years and we have no doubt this decision was the right one for Griffin and the rest of the family. He is just as happy today as he was the day I applied for the refund.  We love him just as much as ever and look forward to what his future holds. He may still be destined for world changing greatness. But he won’t be a member of UF’s class of 2020.

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The check is out of my hands and in our bank. But it still hurts. My heart is still a little broken.

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This is a picture of Paul Wight (ak.a. Big Show) I stole it from Wikipedia. Big Show is a professional wrestler who stands 7’0” tall and weighs 440 pounds. Give or take 50 pounds. Mr. Wight lives less than a few hours from me. So if he wants me to take this picture down, it will be taken down. Immediately. Other than this brief bio, Big Show’s need to be included in this blog will be revealed below.

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Saint Apollonia is apparently the patron saint of Dentists. True story. I see dentistry as a cult. Basically, you could be a non-cult-member, never go to see a Dentist in your life and lose your teeth at 60ish. The true Cult members, go for quarterly cleanings, suffer through root canals, have more cavities filled than they have teeth, and continually get berated for not flossing enough. Don’t even get me started on Wisdom Teeth. For all this loyalty and sacrifice, Cult members will lose their teeth at 70ish.

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Since I’m a parent, I have to pretend to be a member of the Cult and indoctrinate my kids or else Social Services may be at my doorstep before you can say, “Rinse and Spit.”. Stupid Social Services.  So the kids have been avid cult members. Lil Sis finished her braces (maybe) and Griffin is still in “Phase 1” of Orthodontia Hell.  Don’t know what “Phase 1” is, but I do know it costs $161.00 a month for 50 months.

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At this point in Phase 1, Griffin needs to have a bunch of teeth pulled and some sort of chain installed. Don’t ask me why this needs to be done. I am Cult member only for my kids.  Anyhoo, for this procedure we need to see an oral surgeon. Probably costs a little less than a convertible Bentley but I’m sure it’ll be worth it.  The procedure requires anesthesia. This means an IV.  Griffin has never had an IV inserted and makes getting his finger pricked for a glucose strip test seem like a scene from Private Ryan. Not gonna be fun.

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I’m sure some of you who have smaller kids on the spectrum are saying, “That sucks. But you just have to hold them down for a few minutes and then the worst is over.” Uh huh. This is where Big Show enters our tale.

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They don’t call me Big Daddy for nothing. I tip the scales at near the big 300 (That’s 406 Kilometers for my British fans). Only I’m made mostly of Jelly Fish (38.2%) and Lard (96.77%).  Griffin is like a Man-Boy as he approaches 16. He’s completely uncoordinated and could not physically or mentally hurt a fly. I’ve actually seen flies make Griffin cry.  But he is large and he can flail his legs, arms and other seeming “unflailable” body parts like a bunch of drunken Ninjas at a Balsa Wood Convention. This is why I need to call in the big guns. Big Show!

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I just hope Big Show is available March 14 or I can see a lot of black eyes, bruised lips, and broken femur’s carried around by the oral surgeon, his staff, and any innocent bystanders.

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Call me Paul.

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Griffin has a great sense of humor. He usually doesn’t tell jokes, but he acts silly for a laugh and he understands sarcasm. Maybe not all the subtle nuances and cleverness you all are used to in my poop and fart posts. But most of the time he can tell when we are teasing him.

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The other Friday evening, Lil Sis was at a sleepover, Mrs. Big Daddy was sound asleep, and Griffin was readying himself for bed. Since about 15 minutes had passed since my 4^th “last” late night snack, I thought it time for a Turkey breast sandwich.

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My prose may be brilliant, but I am a bumbling idiot when it comes to figuring out how to open food packaging these days. There was some “easy open freshness seal” on the package of lunch meat, but I had to resort to opening it Neanderthal style. There was grunting and stabbing with primitive tools.

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As I was finally making my sandwich, Griffin came into the kitchen for a glass of water and, with comic timing that would put Jay Leno to shame, he said;

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“What is all the noise in here? Are you having a party?”

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Okay. So it wasn’t A-List material. But coming from Griffin, it was truly spectacular.  I was still chuckling as he pranced (yes he prances) off to brush his teeth. No more than a few seconds later, I heard him drop his plastic toothbrush holder on the tile floor of the bathroom. It made a racket.  So, being the comic genius I am, I made way over to the bathroom and said;

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“What is all the noise in here? Are you having a party?”

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It’s what we refer to in the comedy biz as a “callback.” Griffin and I started to laugh hysterically! I think he got the irony of the situation. Griffin telling a goofy joke is nothing new. However, sharing in some irony with me was tremendous.

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He’s always understood the sarcasm (survival instinct in our family). A few weeks ago he showed me some empathy when I was in the hospital. And now, irony!

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Who would’ve thought?

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Griffin came running into our bedroom in a near panic the other evening. The following conversation ensued;

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Griffin:  “Bananas do not need to be cooked?”

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Mrs. BD: “No Griffin. Bananas are a fruit. You can eat them raw.”

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Griffin: “I will not die?”

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Mrs. BD: “No baby. Go ahead and have one. I just bought them today.”

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Griffin: “They are fresh? I will not die if I eat them?”

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Mrs. BD: “No sweetie. Go eat one.”

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Griffin: “I already ate two of them just now.”

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As quick as he came, Griffin darted from the room. Mrs. Big Daddy and I went back to watching TV without needing to utter a word to each other. We are clearly raising an alien life form of some sort and we know it. No need to discuss what had just transpired.

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