Football – Aaron’s Way

Aaron, over the years, has slowly developed an interest of sorts in various sports – mainly football and basketball.  He has gone from knowing nothing – and not caring one bit that he knew nothing – to wanting to watch games with us.  He does at times enjoy the actual game, but I’m still convinced that his main motive in watching games with us is threefold.

  1. He can be in the same room with us and therefore TALK.
  2. He can play his hand-held game as he pretends to watch the TV screen.
  3. He has freedom and permission to eat snack foods.

Aaron has had some very funny comments over the years when it comes to his take on football and basketball.  So, since today is Super Bowl Sunday…and since Aaron is taking a nap and I just might have a few uninterrupted minutes…I thought I would let you view football through Aaron’s eyes and Aaron’s words.

The first thing that Aaron wants to set straight when we watch a game is this:

“MOM!!  Who are you voting for?!  SF or KC?!”

Once we clear up that question…and remind him of who SF and KC are…then he will feel free to enjoy the game.

And to make numerous comments.  Here a few that we have heard over the years.

 

  • “Why are those men wearing those striped suits?”
  • “Those referees look like they’ve been in jail.”
  • “Those cheerleaders are weird.”
  • “Those people who are yelling are crazy.”
  • “Why do some of those football players have long hair?”
  • “Those referees move their hands funny.”
  • “Why did those people paint their bodies?”

 

To each question we must have an answer.  Any answer will do, as long as it’s an answer.

Here’s the run-down from a college game we watched several years ago:

 

We settled in for a night of football – Aaron in the big easy chair that he loves, with his blanket over his lap like a nursing home patient; his digital clock that also shows the outdoor and indoor temperatures; tortilla chips; water; napkins; toothpicks; tootsie rolls; and possibly more food hidden under the blanket that I wasn’t aware of and chose to ignore.  So off we go:

 

“Mom, did you know that the temperature outside is 74 degrees?  Is that  cold?”

     “What does LSU stand for?”

     “Which color is WV wearing?”

     “There’s another referee in that jail costume”

     “Why do football players have long hair?”

     “Mom, now the temperature is 71 degrees?  Is that cold?”

     “I notice that sometimes coaches look mad.”

     “Do you think he can make a chance happen?”

     “A BOY cheerleader?  Now, that’s funny!”

     “How does that guy get that paint off his face?”

     “See, that coach looks mad!”

     “So are there five or six rounds in football?”

     “Why is that rope up in the air?”

     “Those refs in the jail costumes move their hands funny!”

     “Mom, now the temperature outside is 69 degrees. Is that because it’s   fall?” 

     “Why does that referee in the jail costume have an L on his shirt?”

     “See, that coach looks mad again!”

 

At last the game was over.  Sadly, we lost.  And the WV coach did look mad.  The temperature outside was 67 degrees.  Then Aaron asked, “So Mom, is there football on tomorrow?”   I don’t know, Aaron.  I think they cancelled all the games.  And besides, my ears hurt! 

 

And during an Alabama – LSU game:

 

“Mom, Alabama is wearing the red hats, right?”   Yes, Aaron, the red HELMETS.  And he replies, “OK, they’re wearing the red hats.”   Whatever.

 

Aaron is very fascinated with the cheerleaders, and not for the reason that you would think a 27 year-old young man would be fascinated with cheerleaders.  He just thinks that male cheerleaders are quite unusual.  He never thought of guys being cheerleaders.  “Mom, why are there boy cheerleaders?”   Well, Aaron, boy cheerleaders are usually called yell leaders, I believe.  “Yeah, so why do they have boy cheerleaders?”  Sigh.  Aaron, male yell leaders can hold up the pyramids better because they’re strong.  And they yell loud, too. 

 

Later the television camera panned over to do a quick shot of the girls standing on the boy’s shoulders.  “Look, Mom!!  The teenage cheerleader boys have to catch the teenage cheerleader girls so they don’t fall on the ground!”  He’s getting it.  I decided not to even talk about the age thing yet.  One concept at a time.

 

He loves watching the refs and trying to figure out their hand signals.  You have to take my word for it – his imitation of the hand signals is pretty hilarious.  And his comment at one point was, “Mom, that ref in his jail shirt has an “R” on his shirt!”  To Aaron, refs always have and always will wear jail shirts.  I guess he thinks they all have a rap sheet, too.  My apologies to the refs who may read this.

 

Coaches fascinate him.  He likes watching their expressions and seeing how they react to various decisions of the refs in their jail shirts.  This time he noticed their headgear.  “Mom, why does the chief of the team have those microphones?” 

 

He’s having a harder time figuring out the 4 quarters, but he’s doing better.  “Mom, is the halftime before the number 3 or the number 2?”   And as he started getting tired, especially when the team in the red hats that we voted for was losing, he said, “Mom, the 4th round is the last one, right?”

 

Trust me when I say that the fourth round cannot be over soon enough in some games!

 

He also, of course, has his own take on injured players:

 

“Mom, remember yesterday when that football player got hurt?  Those hospital people were bent over him.  He looked flattened!” 

“And then that bulldozer thing came in and picked him up!” 

 

There’s this:

 

“Mom, what’s that stuff they squirt in their mouths out of that bottle?”  It’s usually water, Aaron.  And he laughs and says, “Oh, I thought it was mouthwash!”  Some of the players may wish that it was. 

 

But the best question by far:

 

“How come football players look like they’re wearing a pacifier?” 

 

Well, that’s about it for now.  I may have more to add after tonight’s game.

I hope the team you vote for wins.

As long as it’s…well, I won’t say but I do live in Kansas, after all.  😊  😊

 

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The Nightie……..Retold

 

While in Wal-Mart the other day, I noticed that they are in full Valentine’s Day mode.  Candy, cards, flowers, clothing………..which sends a little shiver up my spine.  Not because I’m so wild about all the Valentine’s Day commercialism, but because of what happened when I was in Wal-Mart with Aaron several years ago.  I decided to share this story again because I realize that many of you haven’t read about that little incident.  Plus it’s good therapy for me to write about it……to let it out.  I’m actually not in therapy, but after reading this story you may think that I should be.

 

Aaron and I did our typical entrance into Wal-Mart on that particular day…….which means that Aaron stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the crossing as we headed to the entrance.  He then held out both arms, like a policeman stopping traffic, which garnered all sorts of attention and stares.  I told him to stop like I always did, and he told me that he just wanted to be sure the cars stopped, like he always did.

 

Once in the store entrance, while I got a cart, I looked over and saw Aaron staring up at the security camera.  He had a huge smile on his face and was flashing the peace sign with both hands, while I’m sure the security personnel were busily trying to ascertain Aaron’s threat level.  Oh brother.  I whisked him on into the store, where I gave him the list of do’s and don’ts as he decided to head by himself to the video section.  It was mostly don’ts.

 

Aaron, don’t make the passing gas sound.  And you know why.  People think it’s you passing gas for real, or worse yet, when I’m with you they think it’s ME.  No, it’s not funny.

 

And no fox whistles.  That could get you in some trouble with boyfriends and husbands.

 

And lastly, as he took off down the aisle, I told him not to run.  There he went, walking briskly with both arms swinging furiously and his rear end swaying back and forth.  Quite a sight.

 

I picked up a few things and then headed over to electronics to pick up Aaron.  He was going with me to the grocery section.  I saw him looking at videos, and after a brief look at whatever new movie he wanted, I took off down the center aisle with Aaron close behind.   I wasn’t paying much attention to what was displayed beside us as we walked………right there on the side of that main aisle.

 

Valentine nighties.  Lots and lots of little nighties.  Red ones……black ones…….animal print ones.  Some with feathers, even, and others with sequins.  My internal alarms should have gone off.  You see, Aaron is attracted to the unusual……..and these tiny nighties were most unusual to him.  But no, I was focusing on peanut butter and tea bags and frozen mixed vegetables…….not on little, very interesting Valentine nighties.

 

But Aaron noticed them.  Oh yes, he did!  Something else I didn’t notice was that Aaron had lagged behind me……..quite a ways behind me.  Suddenly I heard his unmistakable loud voice saying, “MOM!”

 

I turned around in the middle of that very wide aisle full of very many people…….and there stood Aaron, a huge smile on his face……..and holding up a little tiger print nightie.  A very tiny tiger print nightie.  Things seemed in slow motion from that point forward.

 

“MOM!” he repeated.  “YOU NEED THIS!!!!”

 

I just stood there, sure that most of the people passing me were thinking, “No, young man.  Your mom does NOT need that.”

 

I wished that I was Korah.  You remember Korah, of Old Testament fame, who sinned against God and was swallowed up by the earth as punishment.  I would have welcomed that.

 

But there was no escaping my large, very happy Aaron standing there holding this unique very tiny tiger nightie way up high for me and all the other hundreds of people there to see.  OK, there weren’t hundreds but I sure felt like there were.  What could I do but tell him to hang it up, and turn and walk once again toward the groceries?  I couldn’t wait to stick my head in amongst the frozen vegetables to cool my flaming face.

 

Aaron couldn’t understand my embarrassment at all.  He thought that this was a very funny moment but not awkward.  Why wouldn’t mom want to look at this cool tiger print little thing?  I just told him to trust me on this, and I was very thankful when we were headed home.

 

No way was I going to tell him that I liked the red one with the feathers better.

 

Did Someone Say, “Time CHANGE?!”

I am 99.9% certain that whoever thought up all this time change business did not have a child living with them who had autism.  Specifically, a child with autism who has as one of their obsessions the desire for living life with precision timing.

Such is our Aaron.

Aaron wears a watch every day of his life.  If his watch breaks, time for him stands still…and time for us is nearly unbearable until the broken watch can be replaced.  Trust me, we take as little time as possible in finding him a new watch.  It must be a specific watch, one with numbers all around…a second hand…and the day and date feature.

Heaven help us when the day and date feature needs to be adjusted!  Aaron doesn’t have time to wait for that, either, and when I mess it up…which I so often do…then the world is off balance for Aaron until Dad is able to come to the rescue.

Many of you have heard lots of stories about Aaron’s precision with time.  For instance, on the weekends Aaron wants to eat lunch at 12:00 noon.  This often happens:

 

Me:  Aaron, do you want to eat lunch?

Aaron:  Yes.

Me:  What do you want to eat?

Aaron:  Can I have pizza?

Me:  Sure.  I’ll fix it now.

Aaron:  I want to eat at 12:00.

Me:  Well, it’s almost 12:00.

Aaron (pushing his sleeve up to look at his watch which is worn halfway up his arm):  No, Mom!  It’s 11:56!!

I sigh, exercising my lungs as I so often do with Aaron, and make sure we wait until 12:00 on the dot to start the lunch process.

Here’s another familiar scene:

 

Aaron:  Mom, I woke up at 7:58.

Me:  So, you woke up around 8:00?

Aaron (looking at me as if I had three eyes but no brain):  No!  I woke up at 7:58!

 

I began preparing Aaron for the dreaded time change on Saturday afternoon.  When we finished watching our DVD before bed, he glanced up at the clock in the family room.

“Mom,” he began.  “It’s 10:47, but it’s really 9:47, right?”

I assured him he was correct as he followed me into the kitchen.  He carefully watched me change the stove clock, the microwave clock, and the coffee pot clock.  Things were progressing smoothly.

Little did I know.

The bedtime routine was moving along normally when Aaron sat on his bed to write the time in his logbook.  This logbook in which Aaron records…precisely records…his time to bed and his time to get up.  Every.  Single.  Day.

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Aaron stared at his complex weather station clock beside his bed…the one that needs a person with an engineering AND rocket science degree to change the time.

“MOM!!!!  My clock says 11:02, but it should say 10:02!!!”

WHY DIDN’T I REMEMBER AARON’S CLOCK?????!!!!!

But outwardly I was the picture of calmness.  I told Aaron that I really thought it would set automatically by satellite.  Aaron sat on his bed with his logbook open, very still, staring at the clock as if he could will it to change.  I stood beside the bed, staring at Aaron as if I could will him to change.

Silly Mom.

He scooted off the bed and headed for the door.

“I’m getting Dad!” he informed me as he left his room.

Thump, thump, thump down one set of stairs.

Thump, thump, thump down the second set of stairs.

Soon I heard Aaron pounding up both sets of stairs.  Seriously, he takes stairs like a bull elephant.

And there followed Gary, much slower than Aaron, who was full of purpose.

“Dad, can you set my clock?!” he asked anxiously.

Gary set the clock, Aaron sat once again on his bed with his logbook open, and I stood there waiting hopefully for the time to be entered, precisely.

Aaron stared at his weather station clock.  Then he pushed his sleeve up and looked at his watch.  He stared again at the blue numbers on his very difficult weather station clock.

“MOM!!!!  It says 12:10!!!!  It should be 10:10!!!!!”

Oh.  My.  Word.

Dear Gary, in his tiredness, had set the clock AHEAD an hour.  Instead of falling back, we had gone full speed AHEAD…and Aaron was full speed DONE with this crazy time change!!

SO WAS I!!!!!!!!

“Aaron,” I kindly said (despite how UNKIND I felt), “can’t you just lay down, close your eyes, and go to sleep?”

It would have made more sense to tell him to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro…barefoot…in the dark…with no guides…and no supplies.

I wonder what time it was in Tanzania?

Aaron informed me that he could do none of those things.  Lay down, close his eyes, or go to sleep.

“Aaron,” I continued (my lips drawn tighter than they had been), “can’t you just wear your watch to bed?”

With that, Aaron once again pushed his sleeve way up his arm and stared down at his watch.

“MOM!!!!” he said, “we need to change the time on my watch!!!”

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I prohibited Aaron from going back to get Gary.  I changed the dumb time on his watch.   I then sat down on his bed, praying as I started pushing buttons, and somehow someway I was able to change the stupid time from 12:10 to 10:10.

Can you tell I was done?  I needed a time out!!!

Oh, but we weren’t done!

Aaron was, once again, sitting on his bed while staring at his ridiculous weather station clock.  Whose idea was it to get him this clock anyway??!!

All the bases had to have been finally covered, I thought.  Aaron’s just waiting for the minute to change, as he usually does, before he will write down the time.

The EXACT time, for crying out loud!!!

“MOM!!!!” he nearly yelled, “it’s FLASHING!!!!!”

“WHAT????!!!!” I nearly yelled in disbelief.  “What’s FLASHING????!!!!”

And sure enough, under the very current and precise time, there was flashing the words, “NO WI-FI.”

“It says, no wifey,” Aaron told me.

“You’re about to hear, no mother,” I wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Here, Aaron,” I said now through almost gritted teeth, “you can just turn your weather station clock around like this and then go to sleep.”

But I may as well have told him to climb….

You get it.

No, Aaron could NOT just simply turn the clock around like this or just go to sleep like that.  Not with “NO WIFEY” flashing under the very perfect and totally precise time!!!!

I guess Aaron was spent…or knew that I was…because he finally got under his covers and let me escape to my room.

But soon I heard him thump, thump, thumping downstairs…where he told Gary about the flashing “NO WIFEY.”

Then came the thump, thump, thumping upstairs…and the elephant stomps to my closed bedroom door.

“Mom?” he said. “I’m tired of this day.”

“I know, Aaron,” I told him.  “I am, too.”

Never were truer words spoken!!

He walked back to his bed.

He was soon back at my door.

“Mom?  Do you think I should just wear my watch to bed?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” I replied (hopefully!).

Again, he was under his covers.

“MOM!!!!” I heard from the monitor in our room, “it quit flashing!!!”

Thank you, Lord!!!  I really did thank the Lord!

But if you ask me, it’s high time to change the time change!!

At least it is in OUR house!!  WHEW!!

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Singing We Go

Aaron LOVES listening to CD’s when we drive places…and yes, we still use CD’s in our van, and sometimes in our kitchen, because we’re old and our van is old and Aaron LOVES CD’s. 

Why does he love CD’s?  Well, he can hold the case and look at the title of each song that is playing, as well as the number of the song on the back of the case.  This is orderly and sensible, which makes great sense to Aaron. 

It’s pretty hilarious, actually, to watch Aaron go through this process, and to hear his voice.  He watches the CD player in the van, for instance, and as soon as the number of the song pops up, he then repeats the number to me and tells me the song title.  It doesn’t matter that I haven’t asked for this information.  He gives it anyway.

The current CD that we are playing becomes his sole focus for however long it takes us to finish this CD.  It’s usually several days, so for that period of time we hear all about the singer or the group.  Again, it doesn’t matter that we haven’t asked for this information.  We will get it anyway, an any time of the day or night. 

At this moment in time, Aaron is listening…again…to Ronnie Milsap.  He adores Ronnie Milsap.  He knows all about Ronnie Milsap…where he was born (near Gary’s hometown!)…his childhood…his blindness…and definitely his songs!  And I can’t tell you how many times Aaron has said, “Mom, when Ronnie Milsap sings, he goes like this!”  At which time Aaron jerks his head around just like Ronnie Milsap does, because Aaron has watched him on YouTube and has keenly observed Ronnie Milsap’s head jerking and swaying as he keeps time to the music.  But when Aaron copies those movements, it’s quite hilarious…and to people in cars beside us, it’s probably quite puzzling.

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Another musical trait that Aaron displays, proudly and loudly at times, is to sing a main phrase of the last song that he has heard before we exit the van.  There was the day, etched into my memory, when the last song that was playing before we entered Wal-Mart was Shania Twain’s classic, “Man!  I Feel Like a Woman!”  So yes, Aaron walked around Wal-Mart singing…more like saying…with his unexpressive and flat voice, “Man!  I feel like a woman!” 

That was a very interesting day.

Aaron had a doctor appointment today, so I decided that it was a good day for a morning haircut and beard trim on our way to lunch.  We drove to Great Clips, and on our way Ronnie Milsap was singing.  Aaron reached down between our seats to grab the CD, look at the number displayed on the CD player, and then match the number to the title index on the back of the CD box. 

“Number 6,” Aaron intoned.  “All Together Now Let’s Fall Apart,” he read with no expression. 

We soon sat in Great Clips after confirming our on-line check-in.  Aaron was ready for his hair cut NOW, but I told him that we needed to sit and wait…that it wouldn’t be long. 

I hoped.

Soon another customer entered and walked up to the counter.  Aaron immediately thought that she would delay his haircut.  In disgust, he uttered his favorite saying lately.

“Oh, puhleeeese!” he muttered.

“Aaron!” I then muttered close to his ear.  “Don’t say that!”

So I began tickling his back, which always calms him, and sometimes gives me hope that he’ll be quiet.

Then another customer entered.

“Oh no!!” Aaron said. 

Now I was REALLY tickling his back, pushing him down so that I had better access, and also so that his face and mouth were facing the floor!

He then decided to sing.

“All together now, let’s fall apart,” he spoke/sang in his usual monotone. 

No joke, I thought!! 

But soon his hair cut was done, lunch at Longhorn was happily completed, and we ran home for a few minutes.  I needed to let Jackson out to potty, and I also had another chore to do…a bit of a yucky one.

Aaron had informed me, just before we left for Great Clips, that he MIGHT have wet a little…maybe just a little…in his bed during the night.  It wasn’t a seizure, but instead a result of TOO much water before bed.  He has been read the riot act on that, by the way.

More of the story and the extent of the damage was found just before we left, with no time to clean it up.  I couldn’t stay too irritated for too long, though, when at Longhorn Aaron agreed to ask the blessing before we ate.  He stretched his hand across the table for me to hold.

“Dear Lord,” he began.  “Help me not to pee in my bed again.  And thank you for this food.”

How could I stay mad?

So at home, I gathered up his bedding…ALL of it…his many covers included.  I examined the carpet, and then knelt down in the tight spot between his bed and the wall.  The spray bottle wouldn’t work at first, but eventually it did.  But my legs wouldn’t work well, either, as I struggled to get up.  Just then, I heard Aaron at his desk…singing…

“All together now, let’s fall apart,” he once again flatly sang.

He has no idea how my loud laughter made getting up off the floor even harder!!  And how much it helped dissolve my frustration.

I have two Ronnie Milsap songs that I have decided are Aaron’s songs, though he is clueless about them. 

The first one was playing in the kitchen last night. 

“Number 11,” Aaron said with no emotion.  “There’s No Getting Over Me,” he read. 

“That’s a funny name for a song,” he added.

But it’s a PERFECT song for YOU, Aaron!!  There’s no getting over you!! 

And I don’t want to, either!

The second song?  It was playing when we pulled into the driveway after his doctor visit today.  It’s on the second CD disk, in case you’re wondering.

“Number 1,” Aaron said, of course.  “I Wouldn’t Have Missed It For The World,” he finished.

BINGO!!

 

 

What Time Is It??!!

So today I have another Chicago song rumbling around in my brain.  A couple weeks ago it was the song “Color My World” that I wrote about.

But today…today it’s the song, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”

The chorus begins:

Does anybody really know what time it is?

            Does anybody really care?

Stop right there!!

Yes, somebody cares!!!

AARON CARES!!!

For anybody new to my blog, Aaron is our amazing adult son with autism.  And keeping the correct time is of paramount importance to him.  I mean, look at his log book that he keeps with his time to go to bed at night and the time he gets out of bed in the morning.

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And many of you still chuckle with me when I share conversations similar to this:

Aaron:  “Mom!  I woke up early this morning!  Guess what time I got up?”

Me:  “You got up at 7:00.”

Aaron:  “No!!  I got up at 6:58!!”

Aaron loves keeping his eye on the time, the PRECISE time!  Therefore, this change yesterday to Daylight Savings Time caused a huge bump in his road of exact time keeping.

And that’s why I waited until he and I were driving to Sam’s Club in the early afternoon to even casually broach the subject of another time change.  He listened and then didn’t have much response, but I’ve learned not to be fooled by his silence.  He was pondering this unwelcome news with each ticking second of his wristwatch…his wristwatch pushed way up his arm, always, for those of you who may not know that little fact.

His Sam’s food treasures kept him from dwelling too much on the time issue.  Pineapple slices…cheese cubes…dry roasted peanuts with sea salt (Aaron likes using their full description!) (and talking about what dry roasted means until Gary and I are sick of the topic of dry roasted peanuts with sea salt!)…strawberries…orange juice…and dog jerky for our big Great Dane, Jackson.

Once home and all unloaded, Aaron went out with me to the front yard.  He kindly picked up branches that had fallen in our last wind storm.  We praised him for his helpfulness, and how he was allowing Dad more time to work on our bathroom remodel.  Or as Aaron puts it – “tearing the bathroom.”  He was very proud of his job well done.

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And then it hit him.  The afternoon was moving right along.  We were going to watch our West Virginia team play Kansas at 5:00.  Aaron asked about what time the game started, which reminded him of that time issue discussed earlier, and the countdown began.

“Mom?  When do we change the time?”

“We’ll just change the clocks when we go to bed, like we always do,” I told him.

This question was asked in one form or another several times during the evening.  Then it got complicated.

It was 8:30ish when we finished watching a program.  “Maybe I should go on to bed,” Aaron said.  I suggested that we watch one more thing, and then he could call it a night.

“But when does the time change?” he asked again.

“Well, technically it changes during the night when we’re asleep, but we’ll set the clocks ahead when we go to bed,” I replied.

He was satisfied with that.  We watched one more NCIS and then it was definitely time to hit the sack.  Aaron ran down the stairs to say goodnight to Gary, remembering to have Dad change the time on his wristwatch.  We got all the bedtime routine taken care of, with Aaron pushing up his sleeve every minute or two to check the ever important time on his watch.  His eyes were darting, though, to the time on his satellite weather station.  We had told him that the time there would change automatically during the night.

Finally, he pushed up his pajama shirt sleeve, stuck his arm out for me to see, and said, “Mom, look.  It’s this time on me.”

He was struggling with having one time on his watch and another time on his weather station.  Nothing I said was helping much.

Then…THEN…the inevitable happened.  It was time for Aaron to write down his time to bed in his log book…and the time on his weather station did NOT jive with the time on his watch.

What to do??!!!

He wrote down the time displayed on the weather station.  I said goodnight.  I should have known it was not over.

Nine minutes after he went to bed, I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the hallway.  Soon there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Mom?” he asked.  “Is it really 9:47?”

“Yes, Aaron, but during the night it will change while you’re sleeping.  Now go on to bed and don’t worry about it.”

Off he went.  I think it was 9:48.

I was starting to breathe easy, but I shouldn’t have.

More footsteps.  Another knock.

“Mom?  Is it really 10:03?”

Bless his heart.  These things are so, so urgent and of such great importance to him.  I dare not dismiss them or shrug them off or make him feel like he’s ridiculous to be so tied up in the stress of what time it really is.  Gary and I know to explain over and over, if needed…and it almost always is.  Small price to pay, really, for Aaron’s peace of mind and for ours.

All was well today.  Aaron was super excited to eat lunch at Carlos O’Kelly’s, so it appeared that all the time issues had been laid to rest last night, at the same time that Aaron finally decided to rest.

I think it was 4:43 when we were all walking in from the garage…and Aaron spied the time on the garage door opener.

“Dad!  It says 3:43!!”

And in no more than a couple seconds, maybe three, Gary had gotten that garage door opener in sync with Aaron’s watch, Aaron’s weather station, the microwave that Aaron had just watched me change, the oven, the radio…

So…

Does anybody really know what time it is?

            Does anybody really care?

Silly song!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

SEXY!!!

I posted this little piece on my Facebook page this morning, and decided…..in keeping with this blog title of He Said WHAT?!…..that I should post it here as well.  Enjoy!  And welcome to my world, daily my world, thanks to Aaron!  🙂

Aaron could have slept in today, but NOOOO…..he was up before the light of dawn!  He’s raring to go to his yearly meeting at Carlos O’Kelly’s.  A lunch meeting, which is hours away.  Sigh.  He just came bounding in the kitchen.

Aaron:  MOM!! People kiss on Star Trek!

Me:  OK.  (I figured that was a safe response)

Aaron:  Is it OK to kiss?

Me:  It depends on who you kiss.  (Now I’m worried).

Aaron:  So who can you kiss?

Me:  (I almost said, “Lots of people,” but my coffee kicked in and I thought better of it). You can kiss your husband or your wife.

Aaron:  Well, on Star Trek a woman came from another planet and she kissed Captain James T. Kirk!!

Me:  OK. (Another safe response, I hope) (Although I could have told him that he could kiss someone from another planet. That’s pretty safe.)

Aaron:  When they kissed, I said, “SEXY!!” (No surprise.  He says, “SEXY!!” when Pat Sajak hugs a contestant on Wheel of Fortune!)

Me:  (No response) (Hoping he will go take his shower)

Aaron:  Is it OK to say, “SEXY?!”

Me:  (searching for wisdom) Yes, it’s OK to say sexy, but you don’t need to go around saying it to everybody.

Aaron:  Well, the next time you and Dad kiss, I’m saying, “SEXY!!”

Me:  That’s fine. (Please let this be the end!)

Aaron:  SEXY!! (Finally walking away!)

I guess I should inform Gary that we will now have our own cheering section when we kiss.

 

The WHAT Bite?!

When writing about life with Aaron, I have often mentioned how he rubs his hands together.  He does this when he is excited, happy, nervous, or when deep in thought as he concentrates on a particular something that captivates him or requires him to focus.  When he is excited or happy or nervous……and even when he’s angry……his hand rubbing is usually very fast.  I wouldn’t be surprised someday to see smoke rising from his blazing hands!  But when he is deep in thought or totally focused on something, his hand rubbing is slow and calm.  It’s then that one can really see the intricate movement he makes with his fingers.  The whole process is very fascinating.

While in Houston recently visiting Andrea, she and I were able to watch Aaron as he listened to some of his favorite music.  He was totally engrossed in listening to Celtic Thunder, matching each song with the title on the back of the CD.  His head was lowered and there he was, his hands slowing rubbing together and his fingers doing their rhythmic motion……over and over and over.  I quietly picked up my phone and was able to video him without interrupting this magical moment.  You can watch the video below.

 

And now I can write about his doctor visit last November……a visit that involves his unique hand rubbing, done in “slo mo.”  You can better visualize what happened that day.  I just hope that I can also convey how hilarious that whole experience was.

Last year here in Wichita, oak mites were prolific.  These are beastly little creatures…….barely visible……that drop from oak trees and then are carried by the wind to every corner of one’s yard.  They leave nasty little bites that resemble mosquito bites, and itch like crazy.

One day Aaron had been outside and soon enough he had several itching welts break out on his skin.  We explained oak mites to him, all of which he found fairly fascinating.  It wasn’t long, though, before he had scratched one bite on his leg to the point that it was raw and bleeding.  Fearing infection, I put some antibiotic cream on it, slapped on a round Band Aid…….and being the good mother that I am, promptly forgot about it.

In my defense, it was the time of year for cooler weather so Aaron was wearing long pants during the day and long pajama pants at night.  I couldn’t see his leg.  Out of sight, out of mind.

There.  I am absolved of any guilt.

Why the guilt, you ask?  Or not.  Anyway, one evening it was warmer and so Aaron decided to wear his pajama shorts.  We were watching Wheel of Fortune when I looked over and noticed a bright red spot on Aaron’s leg.  The bright red spot turned out to be a perfect ring around his perfect round Band Aid……the Band Aid that had been on his leg for – oh – maybe two weeks?

“Oh my goodness, Aaron!” I blurted out.  “I totally forgot about your oak mite bite and your Band Aid!!”

I jumped up from the couch, took his Band Aid off, and stood there staring at a perfect round red splotchy ring around the original bite.  My first thought was that maybe Aaron had really been bitten by a tick and now had LYME DISEASE!!!

My second thought was to wonder how on earth Aaron still had that old Band Aid on his leg if he was taking proper showers??!!

The first thought I kept to myself.

The second thought I all too gladly shared with Aaron.

“Aaron, if you were taking showers like you’re supposed to, you would NOT still have that Band Aid on your leg!!” I informed him.

“I have SO showered, Mom!!” he loudly asserted.

“Well, if you were showering correctly that Band Aid would have fallen off!” I continued.

“But I DID shower, MOM!!” he also continued.

I knew that his showering skills, or lack thereof, were not the main concern at this point but it seemed the perfect moment to drive home that point.

It didn’t work, by the way, but I must always try.

The next morning found us at McConnell Air Base, where Aaron’s primary care doctor walked in the exam room to check out Aaron’s leg.  I knew that we needed to rule out a tick bite and Lyme Disease, if possible, and maybe get an antibiotic.

Dr. Broberg walked in and greeted Aaron, which always makes Aaron feel very important.  Dr. Broberg is a civilian doctor, so he doesn’t move away.  He’s been Aaron’s doctor for a long time now and knows Aaron well.

“So what’s going on with your leg?” Dr. Broberg asked.

I started to answer, but Aaron was having none of that.

“Mom!!” he firmly said.  “I’ll tell him!”

So I hushed, sat back, and got ready to enjoy the moment.

Aaron knew he had Dr. Broberg’s full attention, so he sat up straight and began his story.  And as he began talking, he also began rubbing his hands together……ever so slowly……over and over and over…..his fingers in perfect motion between the movement of his hands.

Dr. Broberg glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Aaron began his rendition of his condition.

“Mom and I were outside taking a walk,” he began.  He paused as he rubbed his hands together.

“And……and…..while we were outside taking a walk…..”  Another pause.  His hand rubbing was nearly hypnotic.

“I got…..I got….an oak bite!!”  Long pause for effect, while Dr. Broberg’s slight smile had now turned into lip twitching as he struggled not to laugh.

“And…..and……I SHOWERED!!!!” Aaron said with great emphasis as his eyes left Dr. Broberg in order to glower at his offending mom who dared accuse him of NOT showering!!!

It was just too much.  I lowered my head and laughed, while Dr. Broberg was now in a full grin.

Aaron composed himself and continued his drawn out story, never wavering from telling every single detail of his OAK BITE.

Never once did he say oak MITE bite.

Dr. Broberg determined that Aaron probably had a fungus that grew around the Band Aid that had been on for such a long time.  It really had nothing to do with Aaron’s oak bite.  Yes, I said oak bite…..for from that time forward his bite has been classified as an oak bite.

Besides, it was fun to see the looks on people’s faces as Aaron told them all about his oak bite.  And then showed them the oak bite, complete with fungus ring.

Delightful.  Totally delightful.

Some special cream did the trick and before long the round ring rash was gone.

But not gone are my memories of yet another hilarious doctor visit with Aaron…..Aaron of oak bite fame!