My Boy is Caesar, Sun Tzu, and Genghis Effin' Khan

We've been dealing with some "behaviors" of late.  (That's polite autism-speak for "my kid has been an uncooperative asshole.")  I told the school that I wanted a behavior plan.  I was told that he didn't need one, presumably because he hadn't started any fires.  The behaviorist was happy with the compliance trials.  The behaviorist didn't have to live or work with my son on a daily basis.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, a compliance trial rewards tokens to kids for doing what they're told.  When they get enough tokens, they get a special reward.  The idea is to get them back on track, but my boy works around it.  It goes like this:

Boy:  I want a cookie!
Aide:  You need to finish writing your letters first.
(Boy throws himself on floor in boneless, jellyfish fashion and refuses to do anything.)
Aide:  Touch your nose!  (Boy touches his nose.) Good touching your nose!  (Puts token on board.)  Touch your mouth!  (Boy touches his mouth.)  Good touching your mouth!  (Puts another token on board.)  Okay, sit up and you can have your cookie.
Boy:  Thank you.  (Eats cookie, then throws himself on floor in boneless, jellyfish fashion all over again.)

When I brought this up at the IEP meeting, that he's figured out how to manipulate the trials, the behaviorist said, "Well, I don't know if intellectually he understands what he is doing."

If I had been drinking my water, I would've done a spit-take right across the table.

My boy knows exactly what he's doing.  He is a military genius.  He is a criminal mastermind.  He is an effin' Sith Lord.

When there is something he wants that is closely guarded--cookies, for instance--he creates a diversion.  I'll be in the kitchen working on dinner, and he'll ask for a snack.  I'll say, "No, it's almost dinner time."  Then he will rage.  Or he won't.  It's when he doesn't rage that I should get my guard up, because he's about to eff with me big time.  He quietly backs out of the kitchen, and I, relieved that there was no hysterical scene, foolishly go back to food preparation.

That's when I hear the shower.

He's turned it on full blast and aimed it out of the tub, onto the bathroom floor.  I go running in.

"What are you doing?!  STOP IT!  YOU'LL FLOOD THE HOUSE!"  And then, while I'm mopping and cursing, he slips into the kitchen and takes whatever he wants.

He's a master tactician.  Some of his plans I haven't even figured out yet.

"How did you do that?  How did you DO that?!"  Then I just step back and take a deep breath and whistle through my teeth.  You've got to admit, he's got a mind for strategy.  

In the middle of the night, he's pretended to fall back to sleep so I would get back in bed and not thwart his plans to paint the kitchen floor with dish soap.  Or he'll say, "Go to sleep, please, Mommy," and I'll know he's up to something, but I don't know what.

And now he's learned to pick locks.

I'm not even kidding.  We hid the keys to the kitchen locks, so he used my car keys to open them.  He helped himself to a huge serving of chocolate ice cream on the couch.  So my husband locked ALL the keys in the closet and then hung the closet key around his neck.

So the boy punched out the accordion sides of the air conditioner, and while we were fussing with duct tape to fix it, he picked the freezer lock with a pair of scissors and helped himself to more ice cream.

"How did you DO that?!"  Then I tried to unlock the freezer with a pair of scissors, but I couldn't figure it out.

He's doing all of this without any help.  Alexander the Great, Napoleon, and Stonewall Jackson all commanded huge armies.  They had underlings.  My kid is pulling this off all by himself.  I thank God I didn't have twins.

So, Behaviorist Lady.  Never underestimate my kid.  He's not one of Skinner's rats pushing on a lever to get a pellet.  He goes for the full-on mind-fuck, and he's going to tear your little plan apart.

If I didn't need it to work so badly, I'd almost find it entertaining.

ASD Cribs! Or, Lifestyles of the Stressed and Shameless

Hi!  Welcome to our Autism Home!  The Boy is here to greet you, too.  Honey, where are your pants?  Remember our rule.  We wear pants for guests.

Come in, come in!  I'll give you the tour.  This is our living room.  Have a seat!  Yes, the couch cushions are on the floor.  That's how we like it.  Feel free to put one on the couch if you prefer.  To each his own.  This is our entertainment center.  Yes, that is a genuine tube T.V.!  It was the last one PC Richards sold before switching to flat screens.  We like it because when he bangs on it with his Handy Manny tools, he can't do much damage.  Notice the hand-prints?  We think they really personalize the space.

So, if you'll just step over the trampoline--doesn't every living room have a trampoline?--I will show you the rest of the house.  And by the way, would you like to see his box of decapitated and dismembered Disney figures?  He has quite the collection.  I think it just goes to show how remarkable he is.  Other kids just play with their toys.  My son bites their heads off.

What is that, you ask?  Is that an original Jackson Pollock?  Alas, no.  It's just our wall, splattered with chocolate milk.  The boy did it all himself.  I know, right?  He has a real creative streak.  We think he might have a future in action painting.

The magnet covers scratches!

And this is the kitchen.  Can I offer you some iced tea?  Great, let me just find the keys...Well, of course we have appliance locks on the fridge and freezer!  How else can we keep him from buttering the couch?  Not that we want to stifle his creativity, but you know how it is...butter on the couch cushions, couch cushions on the floor...it can be a bit of a bother.

Now if you'll follow me down the hall...No, I can't turn on the light.  We took the light bulb out of the fixture in the hallway because he would turn on the lights in the middle of the night and wake us all up.  He still wakes us up, but at least he doesn't hurt our eyes!

These walls were,well, redesigned when we foolishly thought we could keep him in one part of the house using baby gates.  How silly of us!  He's just so gosh-darned determined.  But we really like the effect.  It's like our own little homage to the great crumbling villas of old Tuscany, or...what's that other place?  Pompeii?  Wasn't that the city that was destroyed by a volcano?  Yes, like that.

This is our bedroom.  Yes, we love the "shabby chic" look!  It's taken us years to achieve it.  You see, when my husband and I got married, we bought nice things.  Then we got a dog and had children, and voila!  All that tacky newness and "cleanliness" has worn away and we have this look.  It's more authentic that way, don't you think?

The bathroom--decorated in beautiful Disney decals!  Yes, we do have soap, but we have to hide it, or else he'll squeeze it all into the sink.  Don't walk barefoot in there.  The boy is trying to learn to pee standing up.  Practice makes perfect!

Here is Big Bro's room.  He has a slide-latch on his door, but as you can see, the boy used an overturned wastebasket from the bathroom as a step-stool so he could unlock it and get in.  How clever!  It doesn't worry him that the wastebasket was full.  Don't worry; the dog will get that.  So yes, Big Bro's room--oh, look!  They're fighting!  Let me just close this door...

Hulk Smash!

And now, the pièce de résistance!  The boy's room!  See how we sawed his door in half?  We did that so we could keep him from wandering in the middle of the night.  But, as you can see, he hulked out during a time-out and ripped the door apart.  So strong!

So, that's the tour!  I'd show you the yard, but the gate has a lock on it and I can't remember the combination, so you'd have to stay forever.  Tempting, I know.  Hey, why don't I take a warm bottle from the broken wine fridge, and we'll chillax on the floor in front of some Raffi on VHS?  The party just never stops around here!