Big Daddy Autism

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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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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I’ve mentioned before the buddy program which affords Griffin the opportunity to “play” flag football and soccer.  Right now we are in football season and Griffin is loving it.  He actually was involved in a fake handoff last week which is still the topic of many a conversation.  These conversations mainly consist of Griffin laughing at how silly the whole thing was.

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When you think about it, the whole idea of sports is silly.  But for kids it is fun and a way to get some exercise and kill some time.  However, the idea that professional sports are a multi-trillion dollar industry is as befuddling to me as a fake hand off was to Griffin.  Seriously, it’s just a bunch of grown men running, jumping and kicking or throwing some sort of object. It’s not that important or even interesting. (Women’s sports, especially Maria Sharapova, is a completely other story to be handled in a different post.)

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For my less savvy and European readers, a fake handoff is a play where the quarterback (the guy who leads the offense of the team) pretends to hand the ball to a running back (the guy who, duh, usually runs with the ball) in an effort to distract the other team such that the quarterback could then do something else with the ball while the other team fruitless chases the running back who does not have the ball. Got it?

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Last week Griffin was the running back in the first ever fake handoff in his team’s history.  It was great.  As is the whole game.  I would surely pay a hell of lot more to watch 50 autistic kids play flag football for an hour than watch one second of some spoiled tall guy throw a ball at someone or something. Seriously, it’s really entertaining. I think I’ve described it before as being a lot like watching a bunch of NT kids try to herd cats. Is LeBron even half as fun as herding cats? Didn’t think so.

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There is, by the way, nothing silly or frivolous about watching Maria Sharapova. Sometimes I even enjoy watching her play tennis.

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We’ve been trying to teach Griffin manners.  He’s usually polite and says “please” and “thank you” appropriately.  But, according to Mrs. Big Daddy, there is more to good manners than just saying please and thank you.  Like saying “excuse me” after letting a loud fart rip. Who knew?

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On his own, Griffin recently started working on the (a bit antiquated but still ever so charming) concept of “ladies first.”  A trip to mall a few days back showed that this is clearly a work in progress.

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The entire Big Daddy Clan was riding the elevator at the local mega mall when we reached our floor.  As the doors opened Griffin yelled, “LADIES FIRST!!!” as he pushed, shoved, elbowed and trampled over his sister and mother to be the first one out of the elevator.

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INTERESTING SIDENOTE:  Big Daddy is not all that ambulatory and rarely accompanies the family on their trips to the mall.  On this occasion they brought me to a place called Abercrombie.  As far as I can tell, Abercrombie is some sort of retail establishment / torture chamber where they take tiny pieces of fabric, clip it to a hanger, call it clothing and then try to sell these minuscule swatches of material at prices exceeding their weight in gold.  All the while pumping horrendous pop music so loud that my ear drums are still bleeding a week later.

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