Big Daddy Autism

.

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.

.

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.

.

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.

.

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.

.

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.

.

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!

.

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.

.

Call me Paul.

.

Both my kids and I have dark brown eyes. Mrs. Big Daddy has gorgeous blue eyes that sparkle when she smiles. She smiles a lot because I am friggin funny.  She blames me for the laugh lines forming around those beautiful eyes.  But enough about her and her pretty eyes. This story is about me and Griff.

.

Like many kids with autism, Griffin avoids direct eye contact. Like many 46 year old married men, certain ample chested neighbors make me avoid direct eye contact.  But I digress. What were we talking about? Is it warm in here?

.

Every now and again I like to mess with Griffin and ask him what color he thinks my eyes are.  Forgetting about genetics, chances are pretty good that, every once in a while he would guess correctly. He never does. Even if I was looking directly at him earlier in the conversation, he always guesses blue. Then I make him look me in the eyes and we both have a good laugh when he discovers, for the five thousandth time, my eyes are dark brown.

.

The other day, on a lark, I asked him what color his eyes were. He’s fifteen. He brushes his own teeth and dresses himself in the morning. He washes his face (occasionally). He has seen countless pictures of himself. I figured he had a pretty good shot at this one. Nope. First guess? Blue. I didn’t correct him.  I just told him to go look in the mirror. He returned with a giant smile on his face and the correct answer.

.

He then proceeded to talk about the cold snap in Missouri in the 1930s. I’m gonna ask him again tomorrow. Odds?

.

.

.

 .

At 15, Griffin is finally developmentally to the point where he understands (sometimes) that there are consequences to his actions.  This basically means we can finally act like “real” parents and threaten him with stuff (like losing computer privileges) in response to temper tantrums or other inappropriate behavior.  We do not hold him to unrealistic standards and would never ground him for things he cannot control due to his autism.  However, there are some behaviors for which he has coping tools, strategies, and knows how to control. If he doesn’t use his tools, there are consequences.

.

I’m certain that his “consequences” differ widely from most NT 15 year olds. Below is a partial list of his consequences, starting from least severe to harshest;

.

*As noted above, losing computer privileges for a period of time. This one usually backfires, because when he can’t use the computer, he joins us and bombards us with questions about the weather and traffic lights. Like a prisoner being water-boarded, we quickly give in and he is back on the computer within minutes.

.

*No watching the Weather Channel for a period of time.  He hates this one.  He needs to be informed, 24/7 of weather conditions all over the world. This is relatively effective some times.

.

*Cancellation of his weekly elevator safari. Most weekends Mrs. Big Daddy takes him to a variety of shopping malls so he can see traffic lights and ride a few elevators.  This one works 90 – 95% of the time.  Only drawback – Mrs. BD actually likes an excuse to go to the mall each weekend.

.

These are most of the regular and most used tools in our repertoire. But, like the end of WWII, sometimes you need to take out the big one.  No matter what time of year it is, if the conventional weaponry proves ineffective, we always have our game changer in our back pockets. Call it our Fat Boy, if you like.

.

Santa Claus.

.

Yup.  Even at 15, Griffin believes whole heartedly in Santa. Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny as well.  We use this to our advantage.  All I have to do is pick up the phone and say, “I’m calling Santa” and the boy almost always snaps to attention.  Griffin doesn’t really like gifts, but he is dreadfully afraid of being on the naughty list. Strange, since his dad never once made the “nice” list.

.

Irrespective, I’m planning on using the Santa Claus Card as long as I can. Even when Griffin is older than Saint Nick himself.

.

.

.