Aaron keeps close tabs on matters pertaining to time or seasons or special events. I talk about this fairly often here in my blog. He is so precise and very aware and sometimes frustratingly regimented. When I’m not rolling my eyes, or chewing on my tongue to keep from either cackling or making a smart comment, I will often laugh at his displays of rigidity. He looks at me as if I have surely taken leave of my senses since he sees nothing humorous in what to him are perfectly normal behaviors.
When it comes to the changing seasons, Aaron is often confused at oddities such as warm days in the fall or winter, or cold days in the spring or summer. If Aaron was in charge, every single winter day would be cold; every single spring day would be warm; every single summer day would be hot; and every single fall day would be slightly cool. How logical that would be! How precise!
I wrote before about how confused he was at the end of last winter, in early March, when we had some warm days. He found me outside pruning when he came home from his group and he said, “Mom, those kids said it’s spring. It’s not spring until March 20!” And later, “So is it spring yet? I don’t understand that!”
I tried to explain that we sometimes say it’s spring when it turns warm, even if it’s not precisely March 20th or after. But he was having none of that! It’s not spring until it’s really spring, in Aaron’s world! People are so confusing sometimes!
And sure enough, during some recent cold weather Aaron asked, “Mom, is it winter?” I told him that no, it was not winter yet…………and I knew exactly what was coming as he responded, “But all this coldness!! When will it get warm?” He gets very annoyed sometimes at how the weather jerks him around.
He’s been on his birthday countdown for some time now. He counts the days and makes his plans and has everything sorted out in his mind. On October 4, he said, “Mom, we only have till my birthday one month and four days.” I had to stop and think a minute, but as always he was totally right about that number.
Last night as we played Skip-Bo, he said, “Mom, tomorrow’s the first of November!” I said, “Yes it is, Aaron. What do you think about that?”
“It’s almost my birthday,” he flatly replied. Well, of course that’s what Aaron would think about when the month of November is mentioned. He may be egocentric, but at least he’s honest about it!
He has really missed the absence of his portable clock that he carried around the house. He broke it one day and I have refused to replace it. But if you remember, his birthday is coming up……….in 7 ½ days, to be precise………..and I imagine he’ll get the same portable clock for his birthday as the one that he is missing. It tells the indoor and outdoor temperatures, too, so he can see if the seasons are cooperating. Anyway, he keeps this clock with him by his computer……or beside him as we play Skip-Bo………..or with him when he comes to the family room to watch TV…….
Last night as we played Skip-Bo, he lamented once again the absence of said clock. He showed me how he has to take his watch off and “roll it”, as he says, and place it on the desk so he can check the time when he’s on his computer. No matter that his watch is conveniently on his arm, pushed half-way up but still there, for him to check the time. No, he must have it right beside him in the place of his absent portable clock, in order to keep track of the time. To try to make him think otherwise is futile. I may as well go outside to convince the pine tree as to try to convince Aaron. He also has a clock on his night stand, but that clock is strictly for telling the time when he goes to bed and when he gets up, so he can record the precise minutes in his notebook by his bed. That clock is not to be used when he is on the computer. I feel sometimes as if I live in some sort of asylum.
And finally, speaking of time, as we began playing our Skip-Bo game last night, Aaron asked his usual question – “Mom, can we play more than one game?”
I said, “Probably not, Aaron. It’s almost 9:30.”
Aaron pushed up his sweater sleeve and he pushed up his shirt sleeve in order to retrieve his watch that he keeps half-way up his arm. He looked at his watch after hearing me say that it was almost 9:30 and he then replied, “No, it’s not. It’s 9:24. So how about it?”
He still thinks his mother is very silly for laughing. What’s wrong with demanding precision?!
How about it??!!