Literally Literal

A recent homework assignment...kind of speaks to my son's literal view of the world - as well as his love of chicken.

Likely not what the teacher has in mind - but all the answers are 'correct'.

The Night Walker

Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs don't break
Walking on the moon
We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could be togetherWalking on, walking on the moon
- Sting

My son has developed a new habit.  He likes to walk by the light of the moon...or by the light of municipally supplied street lights - depends on the cloud cover.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!  We're going for a walk now!"

Going to for a walk at night typically isn't optional.  My son knows what he wants.  And besides if you're presented with a kid who already has all his stuff on and is ready to go - it's really hard to say no.  I only put my foot down when it's raining.  I don't like walking in the rain.

I enjoy my night walks with Nicholas.  And it's always just me and him.  Mommy doesn't get invited to these night sojourns.  This is just me and my son - and it's time with him that I really enjoy.  He seems to find the darkness relaxing (that's and he likes messing around with the flashlight we bring) and I find it to be a really good time to just talk to my son about whatever he wants to talk about.

We talk about school - and why he finds it challenging at times.  We talk about what ultra rare moshling he would like next.  We talk about chicken.  We generally just talk about life in general.

For whatever reason - night is just a really good time to talk with Nicholas.  Day time discussions just seem to annoy him at times - he's a busy guy...with a lot to do - and who has time to slow down and chat about stuff?  But night? Totally different story.

He opens up to me and tells me things.  And I open up to him and tell him things.  We have a lot in common.

Our walks typically end up with us going to the park.  I'm not big on going to the park at night - but it's fairly well lit, and there are a lot of people walking by - so it's likely pretty safe.

There are also other people in the park at night sometimes.  Sometimes these people are teenagers with punk style hairdos.  Nicholas likes to talk these people for some reason.  He asks them what they are doing in his park at night and would they please recycle their empty bottles?  He also tells them that he really likes their 'cool hair'.  The punk rockers seem rather amused by the precocious little kid so they engage him in conversation.  They never say anything rude of mean to him - which is a good thing.  Daddy is standing by with a heavy duty Mag-Lite flashlight just in case some punk gets out of hand with his son.  :)

I'd prefer that he not talk to strangers - and as far as I know he doesn't all that often.  But then again - Nicholas is always with someone who has his back...so I suspect he knows that it'll all be good.

I really enjoy our nighttime walks.  And I really enjoy our nighttime chats.  He's getting older - so I'm hoping to get some good chats in now before he decides that I'm too old to talk too.  But I know I always be cool enough to talk to.

I'm the guy who makes the chicken....and holds the key to more Moshis.

'

Chicken Rascism

More chicken....but it's the wrong color.  My son is a chicken racist.

He doesn't want white meat...he wants drumsticks.

"I'm not fooled!  Those aren't drumsticks!"

"Drumsticks drumsticks drumsticks!!!"

"Drumsticks - 1, White meat - 0!"

Sigh....he hasn't even tried it yet.  Pretty sure there's no hope for humanity at this point.

Not when we can't even get past chicken racism.

Forget you little man - I'll eat yours then!

The Chicken Toss

Ok - so you've all had an opportunity to vote on today's awesome blog posting.  And since I love democracy as much as the next guy - this too will be a chicken themed post.  And that's good.  Everyone loves chicken.  Some more than others...

Oh - and before I get into it....just thought I'd share this with you.  It's been clinically proven that your chances of dying are greatly reduced when you share my blog with someone else.  And your life style is greatly enhanced when you visit one of the advertisers on the right hand side of the page.  Go ahead...you don't wanna die do you?  I'm sure you were raised to share....so do it!

By now you are all well acquainted with the fact that my son (aka "ChickenManNicholas"...or "The Chickenator" as he prefers) is rather found of Daddy Chicken or just chicken in general.  Seems a lot of you are as well based on the traffic that that one post has received.  Lisa....have you actually made it yet?  

It would seem that sometimes a fondness for something can turn into an outright addiction....and the realization that not only is chicken tasty....it can on occasion fly too.

Last week I made chicken.  No surprise there - I make a lot of chicken.  It's a popular request in this house - and I'm happy to make it because it means my son is eating something that is homemade.  How can this ever be a bad thing?

Generally - there are 10 drumsticks in a package of chicken....and you have to move fast if you want more than one serving.  My son moves fast.

Last week - after he scarfed down 4 drumsticks he ran back to the kitchen to score some more.  No surprise there really....and it's to be expected actually.  I had already had two....and Mommy hadn't gotten to it just yet.  So....that's means there is 4 left sitting on the counter.

I was not even surprised to hear the "oh la la!  More chicken for me!" sound coming from the kitchen.  It's a nice sound.

Shortly after that comes the pitter patter of little feet (ok - more like stomp stomp) running through the living room.  There's a little boy with two drumsticks in each hand hauling ass through the room.  He thinks the faster he moves...the less likely we are to notice that Mommy isn't getting any chicken tonight.

"Hey man!  What's going on?  Why are you taking all the chicken?"

"I dunno."

"Well....don't you think it might be nice if Mommy got some?"

"Maybe."

"So...how about it?"

"Ok."

And then Nicholas proceeds to toss two drumsticks at me while I'm sitting on the couch - and then he takes off.

Word to the wise - I'm not making BBQ chicken anymore....the sauce isn't all that easy to clean off the couch....or my arm....or the floor.  The baked chicken with the Shake 'n Bake knock off coating is an easier clean.

The Chicken Sees Red

Yet again - another chicken themed blog posting.  Once upon a time I posted a lot of bacon themed writings - now....it's chicken.  Maybe one day I'll get to post something about a vegetable.  We'll see....

Today was an aggravating - and infuriating day.  Yes - chicken was involved....but that's not what got me cheesed off....it was the nasty, evil witch at the No Frill's on Islington Ave. today.

Allow me to set the scene for you:

11:30 - Daddy at this computer...Nicholas mentioning the need for feed.

"Daaaaaaaad!  I'm hungry!"

"Ok.  What would you like?  Pizza perhaps?

"No.  Chicken."

"We don't have any chicken"

"Sure we do"

"No we don't"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah man....I would not kid you about chicken."

"Oh.  Well.  I want chicken!"

"Sigh....let's go check the freezer.  Maybe we'll get lucky and find some"

No such luck....

"Ok.  You want chicken do you?"

"YES!"

"Ok....you have two choices.  We can go to McDonald's and get chicken nuggets - in which case you'll get to eat really soon.  Or....we can go to the store and buy some chicken"

"Hmmmmm......so....I could go and get chicken nuggets - and a toy....or we can go buy some from No Frill's...hmmmm.....let me see....."  Who said anything about a toy?

[Long Pause]

"Well Daddy.  I think I'm going to choose Daddy Chicken!  It tastes better!"

"Well....ok....just as long as you understand that it'll take some time to cook after we get home".

"That's fine".

"Ok...go get your shoes on and we'll get our chicken on!"

"Yaaaaaay!!!  Daddy rocks!"

I do indeed.

So far, so good right?  How hard can it be to get some chicken?  People buy chicken all the time right?  It's a no brainer right?  Ha.  Chicken was challenging today....

So - of course I decide to take Mommy's car (dumb dumb dumb!!!) because I had just driven it a while ago - and it would still be warm.  Mistake.  If you're going to take Mommy's car to No Frill's - always check the ashtray for a quarter first....for the cart that we simply MUST get.

And of course - there was no quarter in the ashtray...in fact there's no ashtray at all.  Some dirtbag stole it the last time my wife's car got broken into.  Scum bag couldn't even leave me a quarter.  Not cool.

And getting a cart is a MUST.  It's not an option.  Sure - we're only getting one item - but a cart is thing that can be pushed around and ridden on - therefore....we simply must get a cart.

So what do I do?  I try and get my son to panhandle a quarter.  He's cute....I figure he can pull it off.

No such luck.  The first old guy he asked just totally ignored him - and kept on walking.  Nice.

The second lady we tried - said she didn't have a quarter....and that she didn't speak English at all.  This being just after we saw her put her cart away and retrieved her quarter...and her response was in English.  If you're going to lie to me - at least put some effort into it!

Dammit.  This isn't going well.  And my son is getting a little annoyed.

Ok.  Plan B.

Let's go to Subway - buy a drink....and get the person to add a quarter to the bill so she can give us a quarter from the till.  Sounds fairly uncomplicated right?

No.  It was very complicated.  I had to explain the plan three times....but at last we scored a quarter.

We are in good shape!

We go and rent a cart and Nicholas busts ass going into the store to score some chicken.

As I'm walking in....I happen to see a little sign saying that debit and credit card payment was not available for some stupid reason.

[Eyeballs rolling to heaven....asking God just exactly what is his problem today - and why can't we just buy some chicken?]

So my son is driving through the store at top speed....not knocking things over....and not maiming a single person.  He's got good control of the situation.

I however do not.  I figure I'll just beg the lady at the cash to let me take it - and I'll be back in 5 minutes once I hit the bank.  I offered her my cell phone, my driver's licence....even my wedding ring.  No deal.  She was not going to spot me any chicken....

This is not good.  I'm trying to explain this to Nicholas - who is starting to get annoyed about what has become the chicken fiasco.  He's unhappy about the whole situation - and expressed himself....and then moved on to start pushing the buttons to move other people's groceries down the conveyor belt.  He sadly did not score any chicken.

It at this point that some "lady" got in my face and asked me what was wrong with "that child"....and why couldn't he be quiet?

Ever hear the Rush tune where Geddy Lee sings "I see red" as the first lyric in Red Lenses?  It's a really good tune.

I saw red.  And what a lovely shade of red it was.

I won't go into the verbatim description of how I responded....I was quite verbose however.

I did tell her I was soooo sorry that my son's autism has offended her and upset her selfish daily routine....but in fact - I could care less what she thinks and that she would be better off keeping her ignorant comments to herself.  I also mentioned something about her shitty attitude was bordering on a hate crime and that if she doesn't want to explain herself to a cop - that she had best just keep her opinions to herself.  That's the basic gist of what I said....there may have been some profanity - and possible references to her faulty breeding and chromosomal deficiencies...I was pretty torqued up.  I'm even not actually if what she said could even be construed as a hate crime....but I know I hated what she had to say.  That's enough right?

I don't even think Nicholas heard me tell this lady off....he seemed to be all smiles after he returned from moving people's groceries around.  I explained that we had to go to the bank to get some cash.

"Ok Daddy!"

I was really surprised how cool he was with this.  Pleasantly surprised in fact.  He wanted to walk to the bank - so we did.

Upon our arrival at the bank...lo and behold!  That ATM was out of service....so we had to wait in line to grab some cash.  Nicholas proceeded to take off his coat, plop himself into a chair - and play his Moshi game on this DS.  I waited in line for 10 minutes...one eye on the Moshiman...the other eye on the teller who was just chatting about the weather with a customer.  Dude!!!  I need to get the chicken!

Finally....I get the money - and we headed back to the store to pick up our chicken.

The cashier was nice enough to set the chicken aside while we went to the bank.  Nicholas handed over a $20....and voila!  The chicken was ours!

We pile into the car and proceeded home.  Nicholas is happy....I am not.  Nicholas plants himself on the computer when we get home - I proceed to make chicken....and give my Calphalon cookwear a good scrub.  I clean when I'm angry.

I know that this kind of thing is something that my son is going to experience throughout his life.  But come on people.  He's 10 years old.  He's really damn cute.  So what if he's a little noisy at times....he's actually got a lot of interesting and intelligent things to say.  Next time - listen with your ears....and not your ignorance.

Sugar Bug Beat Down Volume 2

Just a quick update on the Sugar Bug Beat Down.

It's all good now....and things have returned to our version of normal.

Nicholas is back to his feisty, chicken stealing ways.

He's added chicken throwing to his repertoire now....but that's for my next post.

Sugar Bug Beat Down

Well.  It's finally happened.  We've had a good run of 10 years....but the sugar bugs finally got the best of Nicholas.  Sugar bugs are not cool.


What are sugar bugs you ask?  Sugar bugs are those little things that exist in all our mouths that try and eat the enamel on our teeth and form cavities.  Nicholas fought the good fight...but now we have to call in the big guns and get them taken care of.


For most kids - this would mean a routine trip to the dentist.  For a kid on the spectrum - it typically means a trip to the hospital.  Because you know there's just no way an autistic child is going to sit there patiently while they get a needle for freezing and then the subsequent drilling (and tooth extraction).  The experience is hard enough for anyone - but for an autistic child....well...I'm sure it would be an extremely traumatic experience.  


I've been living in fear of this day for years...and tomorrow - we get it on with the sugar bugs.  Damn.


The 'procedure' (what Nicholas is calling it) will take place tomorrow at Sick Kids Hospital in downtown Toronto.  The people at Sick Kids are awesome and they (obviously) are really good with kids.  We had the opportunity to take Nicholas to the hospital a few days ago so that he could get a bit of a run down on what was going to happen - and be introduced to some of the medical equipment that they will be using.  He was really good about the whole thing.  He even got his choice of the flavor of anesthesia he's going to have (watermelon by the way).

Since Nicholas isn't supposed to eat after midnight - we let him chow down on anything and everything he wanted (bought a few Little Caesar's pizzas, Crazy Bread...and Buffalo Wings!).  For the first time ever - he didn't eat all the pizza that he could get his hands on!

So tomorrow we will arrive at Sick Kids for 9:30AM....with a procedure time of 11:30AM.  It's only a day procedure - so he will be home sometime in the afternoon.  He's going to be cranky I'm sure....so there will be lots of new Moshi Monsters for him to help him feel better.  Mommy has stocked up on all kinds on things that will hopefully get him through the 'procedure'....Moshi Mags...and lots of books he has never seen.  So...while it's going to suck - at least there will be things throughout the day that he will enjoy.

If you have a moment - please help my brave little boy get through his arduous day.  Nicholas has email....and I'm sure he would love to get an email from you.  Nicholas can be reached at kenyakid2000@gmail.com.  Please note that the emails Nicholas gets are also forwarded to me (safety issue) so that I will be in the loop....and within about a week or so I will update this blog entry to remove the email address.  I can't promise a response to your email....while he likes getting the occasional email he's not big on responding (hence why he doesn't get all that many).

I really hope tomorrow goes well.  Think good thoughts....send an email if you can...and let's kick the crap outta those sugar bugs!  Game on little man....you're going to be just fine!  And yes - Daddy will be with you in the procedure room while the main event goes down.

Updates to follow....

Why I Write

First off - a friendly 'Привет' to those people in Russia who have taken the time to read my blog.  Not sure why my traffic is trending up in Russia...but I'm happy that you stopped by to check this blog out.  Спасибо!


Secondly - you will notice a Calvin & Hobbes cartoon in today's blog.  Not sure if Bill Watterson is going to have a problem with that.  I hope he doesn't - I'm a huge fan.  And besides - I happen to own the hardcover Calvin & Hobbes compendium.  So...everyone got paid who should have gotten paid.  [Note to Bill Watterson's lawyer - if my borrowing of the image is a problem...let me know.  I'll remove it.]


Today's blog entry is in answer to a question that I received a while back.  The question was, "why do you write?".


Good question.  And one for which there is more than one answer.  Some are smart ass responses such as:

• I'm writing so that Oprah will see my blog and then get me on her show so that I can flog the book that I have yet to write.  It's all about the fame and fortune - and free loot!  Now obviously - that hasn't happened...nor is it likely to.  But hey - if you happen to know Oprah...feel free to forward this blog to her.  I'm sure she would like it.  Or....just send me her email address, and I'll take care of the rest.  No need for a phone number - I'm sure she's a busy lady who doesn't answer her own phone.

• And of course there's the usual flippant remark "because I can!".  That's always a real crowd pleaser.  Actually I do know that I write fairly well - always have.  A love letter from me is something to treasure!  Not really sure who might actually have one anymore - likely no one (except my wife....in case she's reading this.).  But if you do...hang onto it.  It'll be worth a ton of coin after Oprah and I yak at each other on her show.

There - now that the smart ass comments are out of the way (and if you know me personally - you'll totally understand why they're there)...I can address the question more seriously.

• I write because I can.

• I write because it's a healthy outlet for the frustration that I feel at times in raising an autistic child.  It can be frustrating on so many levels (from the 'looks' from other people...to the temper tantrums....to the constant realization that my experience as a parent will never be the experience that I had planned for....and so on).  It's just really frustrating at times.

• I write because raising an autistic child can at times be the most wonderful experience ever.  Odd isn't it?  It's either really good....or not so good.  Like my son - there are no shades of grey involved...it's black or white, yes or no, up or down....rarely if ever is it somewhere in the middle (but when it is?  Man....is that ever sweet!).

• I write because I actually enjoy the process of writing.

• I write because I enjoy the feedback that I get.  Typically - it's positive feedback - so I enjoy that a great deal.  The rare negative feedback I somewhat enjoy as well....it typically gives me something new to write about.

• I write because I feel I have to.  I read a lot about autism...and I lot of what I read is really misinformed crap....so I kind of feel somewhat obligated to do my part to correct people's misconceptions as to what it really is...and what my life is really like.  My life didn't end when my son got his diagnosis - it just went in a different direction.  No better and no worse than anyone else's life....just different.

• I write because my son entertains the hell out of me.  He's a brilliant child with a heart of gold.  I want to share that with others - and in particular....those who are just starting their journey down this road.  Yes - it's hard at times...really hard in fact.  But it's not all bad.  Actually there are times where it totally rocks (bacon...and now chicken theft aside).

• I write in the hopes that one day my son will read this blog and truly understand how much better off I am as a person for having met him.

• I write because I get paid to.  Yes.  I actually get paid by Google when you kind people click on an ad.  No one is getting rich here...but the money that it does make is ear marked for my son's RESP.  So...keep those clicks coming people (but only click an ad if it's something you're truly interested in.  Google takes a dim view on click fraud).

• I write because the more I learn about my son - the more I learn about myself.  He's a mini version of me in many respects.  The things that bug him - also tend to bug me.  Things need to be in order.  Things need to be done a specific way.  Things need to be done properly.  The only difference being - I can adapt much easier to the environment than him.  It's like has the same emotional perspective on things that I do...only magnified by a factor of 1,000.  He's getting more flexible as he gets older - so that's a good thing.  So in essence - when I tell my son that I understand what he's dealing with....I really do.  And that helps him deal with things a little better.

• I write because I like the analytic side of things.  I get some really interesting reporting on how people found my blog, where they're from, what they clicked on, etc.  It's really exciting (for me....yes...I'm a bit of a data dweeb) to see the geographical reach my blog has had.

• I write in the hopes that you will bookmark my site - and come back often.  I have lots to write about!

• I write in the hopes that you will share my blog with others.

I write for a  multitude of reasons.  And as long as my son keeps amusing me as he so often does (and cheese me off...as he also frequently does) - I'll continue to peck away at the keyboard....always in the hopes you'll take something away from what I have to say.

So - there you have it.  A whole bunch of reasons in answer to the question, "why do you write?"?  I write for me,  I write for my son.  And I even write for you. 

And now I have a question.  Why do you read?  I really want to know.  What are you getting out of this?  Are you learning anything?  Has your perspective on autism changed in anyway?  I'd love to know.

If you want to share that with me - that would be great.  All I ask is that you use the comment box below, and not use my Facebook wall to tell me.  I tend to go through my wall every few months and delete everything....and I suspect you're going to tell me something that I'll want to keep...and that I would like others to see as well.

Cheers!

Paul

Lifted Letters

Sometimes you come across something that someone else wrote - and it just resonates with you.  This is one of those times.  I didn't write this.  A friend who I apparently went to high school did (or rather....a friend of hers did).  I liked it...so I asked if I could use it here.  Thanks Meaghan Roe.

So - with proper credit having been given where proper credit is due - I present to you a piece that was originally entitled, "A Special Letter About Autism".  I've renamed it "Lifted Letters"....for the obvious reason.  :)

I understand that we will be visiting each other for the holidays this year! Sometimes these visits can be very hard for me, but here is some information that might help make our visit to be more successful. 

As you probably know, I am challenged by a hidden disability called Autism or what some people refer to as a pervasive developmental disorder (PDD) Autism / PDD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, which makes it hard for me to understand the environment around me. I have barriers in my brain that you can't see but which make it difficult for me to adapt to my surroundings. Sometimes I may seem rude and abrupt, but it is only because i have to try so hard to understand people and at the same time, make myself understood. People with autism have different abilities: some may not speak, some write beautiful poetry, others are whizzes at math (Albert Einstein was thought to be autistic), or have difficulty making friends. We are all different and need various degrees of support. 

Sometimes when I am touched unexpectedly, it might feel painful and make me want to run away. I get easily frustrated, too. Being with lots of other people is like standing next to a moving freight train and trying to decide how and when to jump aboard. I feel frightened and confused a lot of the time, like you would if you landed on an alien planet and didn't understand how the inhabitants communicated. This is why I need to have things done the same as much as possible. Once I learn how things happen, I can get by ok. But if something, anything changes, then I have to relearn the situation all over again! it is very hard. 

When you try to talk to me, I often can't understand what you say because there is a lot of distraction around. I have to concentrate very hard to hear and understand one thing at a time. You might think I am ignoring you - I am not. Rather, I am hearing everything and not knowing what is important to respond to. Holidays are exceptionally hard because there are so many different people, places and things going on that are out of my ordinary realm. This may be fun and adventurous for some people, but for me, it's very hard work and can be extremely stressful. 

I often have to get away from all of the commotion to calm down. It would be great if you had a private place set up to where I could retreat. If I cannot sit at the table, do not think I am misbehaved or that my parents have no control over me. Sitting in one place for even 5 minutes is impossible for me. I feel so uneasy and overwhelmed by the sounds, smells and people - I just have to get up and move about. Please don't hold up your meal for me - go on without me and my parents will handle the situation the best way they know how. Eating in general is hard for me. If you understand that autism is a sensory processing disorder, it's no wonder eating is a problem! Think of all of the senses involved with eating: sight, smell, taste, touch AND all have complicated mechanics involved with chewing and swallowing that a lot of people with autism have trouble with. I am not being picky - I literally cannot eat certain foods, as my sensory system and or oral motor coordination are impaired. 

Don't be disappointed if mommy hasn't dressed me in starch and bows. It's because she knows how much stiff and frilly clothes can drive me buggy! I have to feel comfortable in my clothes or I will just be miserable. A very smart adult with autism, has taught people that when she has to wear stiff petticoats as a child, she felt like her skin was being rubbed with sand paper. I often feel the same way dressed in dressy clothes. 

When I go to someone else's house, I may appear bossy and controlling. In a sense, I am being controlling because that is how I try to fit into the world around me (which is so hard to figure out!) things have to be done in a way I am familiar with or else I might get frustrated. It doesn't mean that you have to change the way you are doing things - just please be patient with me and understanding of how I have to cope - mom and dad have no control over how autism makes me feel inside. People with autism often have little things that they do to help themselves feel more comfortable. The grown ups call it "self regulation" or "stimming". I might rock, hum, flick my fingers at my face, flap my arms or any number of things. I am not trying to be disruptive or weird. Again I am doing what I have to do to for my brain to adapt to your world. 

Sometimes I cannot stop myself from talking, singing, or partaking in an activity. the grown ups call this "preservating" which is kind of like self regulation or stimming I do this only because I found something to occupy myself that makes me feel comfortable, and I don't want to come out of that comfortable place and join your hard-to-figure-out-world. Preservative behaviours are good to a certain degree because they help me calm down. Please be respectful to my mom and dad if they let me"stim" for a while, as they know me best and what helps to calm me. 

Remember that my mom and dad have to watch me much more closely than the average child. This is for my own safety, preservation of your possessions, and to facilitate my integration with you tippies (what we autistic folk often call you neurotypical folks!) It hurts my parents feelings to be criticized for being over protective or condemned for not watching me close enough. They are human and have been given an assignment intended for saints. My parents are good people and need your support. 

Holidays are filled with sights, sounds and smells. the average household is turned into a busy, frantic, festive place. Remember this might be fun for you "tippies", but it's very hard work for me to conform. If i fall apart or act out in a way that you consider socially inappropriate, please remember that I don't possess the neurological system that is required to follow "tippy" rules. 

I am a unique person - an interesting person. I will find a place at your celebration that is comfortable for us all, as long as you view the world through my eyes! 

That's a lot of writing!  Typically a lot more than I do for one of my postings.  But man...wasn't that a good read?  I know you made it this far....  ;)  Have something to add?  Use the comment box below....that's what it's there for.

Public Service Announcement for Lisa. The Chicken Recipe!

By popular demand - okay...only one person actually asked - here is the recipe for "Loon's Chicken".  I tend to cook by feel...so there's no need to follow the recipe to the letter.

Here's what you're going to need.

• Chicken.  With the skin on.  If you've got skinless chicken - you're just wasting everyone's time.  I typically use chicken thighs...but you can use drumsticks or breasts. 
• Breadcrumbs - you can make you're own if you're inspired...or you can be lazy and just buy them.  I'm lazy...or efficient - you decide.
• Corn Flakes.  Yes - that's right Corn Flakes.  Regular Corn Flakes.
• Bunch of spices and stuff.  I use the following.....I don't take actual measurements...but I'd say about a 1 teaspoon of each of the following:  garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, turmeric, salt, and pepper.  I might add in some hot pepper flakes if I'm in the mood.
• I also use a pinch of cumin and cinnamon.  You can use whatever floats your boat actually...depends on what you like.  I won't use curry (funkifies the whole house)....and there is no coriander in my house at all.  That stuff is just nasty.
• Oh....throw some parsley flakes in there too.  It doesn't do much for the taste of the chicken...but it makes it look pretty.  Presentation is good too!

Ok - got all that stuff Lisa?  Ready to get your chicken on?  Here we go:

Get a large bowl (preferably clean...depends on whether you like the people you're serving the chicken too).  Kurt's alright as I recall...so clean is probably the way to go.

• Dump in about 1 cup of Corn Flakes...and crush them up mortar and pistil style.  Don't turn them into dust...just make the Corn Flakes really, really small (like half the size of a Rice Crispy I suppose).  The ideal size is generally the same as you'd find in the last bowl of Corn Flakes - when some unthoughtful spouse has left just enough in the box as to qualify as not empty (and thus avoiding the trip downstairs to get another box).
• Dump in 1/2 cup of bread crumbs.
• Dump in all the other stuff
• Mix

Now the fun part (as if crushing Corn Flakes wasn't fun enough)!

• Take a piece of chicken and rinse it off....shake off excess water.  I suggest using a pair of tongs for this....but I'm sure you've already thought of that.  As much as I love to cook - I abhor touching raw meat.
• Throw said piece of chicken in the bowl....ensure the entire piece of chicken is covered with the spicy stuff.
• Do this as many times as there are pieces of chicken.
• If you have any of the mix left after all the pieces have been coated - sprinkle it over the pieces.  It adds to the crunchy texture we're going for here.

The key to getting this to turn out well is how you cook it.

I don't like my chicken cooking in all the fat that renders off as it cooks....so I place an elevated rack on the tray that I use.  Actually - I use some Ikea roasting pan and just use the rack that came with it.  Doesn't matter really what you use - just as long as the chicken is not marinating in the chicken fat.  I also line the tray with foil - the bottom of the tray is going to get really messy.  Using foil is going to save you lots of time.

Throw those bad boys into a preheated oven....generally about 375 for 60-70 minutes.  The last 5 minutes I crank up the broiler to high to ensure the skin is nice and crispy.

Voila!  Chicken worth stealing!  Bon appetit!

And the tie into how this particular posting relates to my son....well....now that the recipe is posted on the Internet.....he'll be sure to find it.....and make his own damn chicken!  :)

Who Ate The Big Piece of Chicken?

"Why did the little boy cross the road?"

"To rip off the big piece of chicken!"

It used to be bacon that was the most commonly stolen item of food in my house.

Things have changed.

Now it's chicken.  More specifically.  Daddy's chicken.

Word to the wise...I can totally understand the recent spate of chicken theft.  I happen to make some really fine chicken.  Got my own recipe for a KFC/Shake 'n Bake knockoff that has been years in development.  It's recently been perfected - and now chicken theft is on the rise.

All I ever did was offer my son a piece of chicken.  Once.  Now he's hooked....bad.

I've had pieces of chicken go missing from my plate.

I've seen all the left over chicken that I had lunch plans for....go missing from the fridge (and the tell tale empty Tupperware thing is left in the fridge - ChickenMan is not concerned about leaving a neat crime scene....it's usually a smash and grab kind of event).

I've even had requests for chicken.

"Daddy!"

"What?"

"I'm hungry!  Can you make some chicken?"

"Ask Mommy to make it."

"No.  You make good chicken.  Mommy's is ok...but your's is better!"

He happens to be right on that by the way....but we won't discuss that publicly.


"Well....maybe for dinner little man.  No one eats chicken for breakfast anyways."

"Why not?"

"Just because.  You don't eat waffles for dinner...and you don't eat chicken for breakfast.  That's just the way it is.  I don't make the rules in society man....I just try and follow them."

"That's terrible.  Who makes these rules anyways?"

Wish I knew little man....wish I knew.

Someone please click on some ads (on the right hand side)...I've gotta chicken junkie to support.  :)

In The Beginning... "Now In Stereo!"

Today's posting, aptly titled, "In The Beginning..." is just that.  It's a summary of things that first caught our eye - and started us down the road of discovering Autism.  It's intended as a bit of a guide for other parents who are wondering about their child's development.  I get an email to that effect fairly often....someone I know will send me an email asking me about our initial experiences....as they cast a wondering eye at their own offspring.


So - without further ado - here's how it all went down.  And yes - I like the Motley Crue tune "In The Beginning - and how it leads into Shout At The Devil.  I really only want the ominous "In The Beginning" sound....but then ya know - it just leads into some classic mid 80's metal....so I used the whole tune instead. If you're not feelin' Motley Crue - just turn it off and read on.  If you are feelin' it....turn it up.  And if you're a lawyer representing Motley Crue about my use of the tune....take it up with YouTube - I'm just linking something that they are making available.  It's not like I'm getting rich here ripping off Crue tunes....

As best as I can recall - we first noticed that Nicholas stopped responding when we called to him.  He would just act as if he hadn't heard us.  So - being responsible and concerned parents...we took him to get his hearing checked out.  His hearing was fine.  He was nearly 2 1/2 at that time.


Around that same time - the daycare that we had him at wanted to speak with us about some 'observed' behaviour.  My wife and I went down to the daycare to have a little chat (interestingly enough - this is the same daycare my wife attended once upon a time....some of the same staff were their after all that time) about some things they had noticed about Nicholas.  We were glad that they took the time and effort to speak with us - they had a lot more experience with kids than we did at that time....so it was helpful to have people more skilled in child development than us provide some insight/concerns.  Basically - the behaviours expressed things like:

• he seems to be unaware of other people around him
• he likes to line things up - in order (we had noticed this as well).
• he doesn't always deal well with transitions
• he doesn't seem to have a lot of interest in socializing with other kids, or take part in group activities.

My wife and I took this information home - and began to wonder about our son...


It was also around the same time (actually 7-10 days before we noticed the hearing issue) that we had our son vaccinated with the MMR shot.  Now I know - there's a lot of controversy surrounding the use of vaccinations and the incidence of Autism.  And I'm not here to rehash all that nonsense - whether I believe MMR negatively impacted my son is besides the point.  And what good would it do anyways if we knew for sure?  But - for the record....I do not believe in coincidences (and I know a great many number of people who have had similar experiences)....and I do think it quite likely that it was the loading schedule itself that caused our son harm.  Kids today receive many, many more shots than we did when I was of that age.  I don't think it was MMR per se....but rather the frequency in which children were subjected to vaccinations that has a cumulative impact of children's neurological development.


We also noticed Nicholas had a fascination with lining stuff up.  Blocks.  Animals.  Books.  Whatever.  If it could be arranged from big to small....it was.  This is typical of kids on the spectrum - or so we learned.


Nicholas also had an innate skills when it came reading.  That we discovered is called hyperlexia (defined by the follow 'borrowed' text from Wikipedia):

Hyperlexia was initially identified by Silberg and Silberg (1967), who defined it as the precocious ability to read words without prior training in learning to read typically before the age of 5. They indicated that children with hyperlexia have a significantly higher word decoding ability than their reading comprehension levels.

Hyperlexic children are characterized by having average or above average IQs and word-reading ability well above what would be expected given their age.

In a nutshell?  Our son was reading at a very early - at a level far advanced for his age.  His recall on what he has read is nearly photographic.  He remembers everything he's read - and everything that's read to him.  Just try and miss a page when reading him a story he's already heard...


And then there was echolalia - the automatic repetition of vocalizations made by another person. It is closely related to echopraxia, the automatic repetition of movements made by another person.  Nicholas used to love repeating things back to us....and one occasions - when he gets really excited - he'll kind of flap his left arm (mostly when he's brushing his teeth these days however).


At this point - my wife got her social worker skills happening...and was able to get Nicholas in to see a Dr. by the name of Dr. Flanagan at St. Joseph's Health Care Centre.  Dr. Flanagan had opened a new clinic there - so we were able to bypass the year long wait that we would have had to endure if we booked at East York General.  Connections help sometimes.  From a few visits with Dr. Flanagan we were provided a from that basically said our child had autism....among other high end diagnostic expressions.


So - we noticed a few things.  Other people noticed a few other things.  A diagnosis here - a professional opinion there....and voila.  Instant diagnosis of autism.


Now....here's your written summary - you have a child with an issue on your hands....but no help provided as to the question, "Great?!  Now what the hell do I do?":


To be continued...

Out With The New....In With The Old?

My son has an incredible memory.  He remembers everything.  All the time.  Well....most of the time - he can remember who said what, when they said it - and quite possibly what they were wearing when they said it....but as him where he left HIS toy and the answer is invariably, "I dunno".

Yeah...right.  You know.  You just don't want to be the one to actually go and get it (have I mentioned that I was gullible on occasion).

My son used to go to Norseman Public School.  He currently attends 20th Street Public School.

We changed his home school a few years back because Norseman didn't actually have any classes for autistic dudes....and 20th Street did.  We were thrilled with the change initially.  It meant that Nicholas would be in a class where the teachers (we thought) had actual training and a background in dealing with kids who were atypical.  While the staff at Norseman were sincere in their efforts to help Nicholas - they didn't have a lot of experience in dealing with autistic kids - and no....attending a 1/2 day seminar isn't going to make someone an expert.  FYI - we've had mixed results with Nicholas' new school placement, and are currently investigating other, more suitable options.

My son had a lot of fun (for the most part) at Norseman.  He had some friends that he really liked (mostly girls...ya man!) and he had more good days than bad.  20th Street is different.

He seems to have more bad days than good.  What entails a bad day is a post unto itself (and I might post that too...we'll see) - and I'm pretty sure Nicholas would rather switch back to Norseman (it's a lot closer too).

A few days ago - Nicholas announced his intentions to return to his old stomping grounds and pay a visit.  That's where he is right now actually.  Mommy called ahead and had a chat with the principal (who remembers Nicholas quite well) to see if it would be ok.  His kindergarten teacher isn't there anymore (likely off on mat leave I suspect) - but his grade one teacher is around.

It's an interesting process watching my son's schemes unfold.  I'm sure there's an end game here somewhere - likely (in his mind) a return to where school was more fun than work.  Sorry bub - that's not going to happen.

Scrap Ain't Crap

Once upon a time - there was a mayor of Toronto who decided that residents didn't pay enough in taxes.  Now this mayor spent a lot of money of things that weren't really all that useful...so new sources of revenue had to be invented just to pay for his grand vision of what Toronto should be.

So....this mayor foisted upon the hapless citizens of Toronto some new taxes.  We got the vehicle license tax (since repealed by our new mayor), a land transfer tax on the sale of homes, and a garbage pick up fee.

The garbage pick up fee is a scam.  Big time.  Our property taxes were supposed to pay for this service already...but it wasn't enough you see.  So now?  Citizens of Toronto now have a new line item on their water bills....trash collection.  What a scam if you ask me.

Ok.  Great.  I've gotten my little rant out of the way....but what does this have to do with my son and his adventures?  I'm getting to that - hold on!  Be patient!

Now - if you're like me....you're pretty diligent in your efforts to recycle.  I'm really good at it....as my bin is frequently overflowing with stuff.  And then it dawned on me one day in a moment of "screw this!  I'm paying for the privilege of having the city haul away my crap that they are making money from".

Come again Paul?

Yes.  You see the city (or the contractors who haul it away) makes money from your trash.  The metal that is recovered is sold for scrap - and someone (not me) gets money for it.  This annoys me a great deal.

If you know me - you know that I used to consume about 14% of the world's production of Coca Cola (I've since cut back considerably)....and that means a lot of empty pop cans.

Pop cans (or soda cans if you happen to be of the American persuasion) are worth money.  Not a lot of money....but money nonetheless.  Pop cans happen to be made of aluminum.  Aluminum happens to be worth coin.  Coin happens to be of interest to me.

So....I've taken to separating the aluminum cans out of the city's recycling stream....and placing them in my own recycling stream.  All the pop cans in my house go into another bag....which when full makes it's way to the scrap yard for cold hard cash.  I'm never going to get rich off this - but that isn't the point.  I just don't like the fact that they city is charging me to pick up stuff that they are going to turn around and make money from.  So I separate.

And this is where my son comes in.  We're trying to teach him that there are more ways to earn money in life than just sticking his hand out and smiling at his parents.  Sometimes work can earn you money as well.  And my son has developed himself a rather expensive hobby of collecting Moshi Monster (read: cheap plastic crap made in China).  Oh....let's not be coy.  He's got himself a bad problem.  He's hooked on Moshis....and he's always jonesing for a new one.

Recently my son asked me for some money to buy a Moshi on eBay.  I wasn't into it.  I was into cutting him in on my aluminum venture.

"Nicholas.  Want to make some money?"

"Of course!"

"You know that big bag of pop cans in the shed?"

"Uh huh.  What about it?"

"Would you like it?"

"What for?  It's garbage!"

"No.  It's...money just waiting to happen."

"Explain please."

"Well...there are these places called scrap yards.  They take your scrap metal and give you money for it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Ok.  That sounds good.  How do I get in on this?"

"Simple.  You just take pop cans and put them in the black bag on the deck....as opposed to the blue bin.  And when you have a bunch - we take them to the scrap yard.  They weigh them - and then they give us cold, hard cash."

"That's it?"

"Yep.  Pretty much."

"Ok.  I'm in!"

"And to start you out - you can have the big bag that I've already got stashed away.  We can take it in tomorrow when you get back from school."

"Awesome!"

The very next day upon arrival from school - my son refuses to take his boots and coat off.  He announces that he is going to the scrap yard.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddy!!!  Let's go!"

"Ok.  Let's wait for Mommy at least!"

"No!  We don't need her.  This is boy stuff.  Mommy can't come."

I beam with pride.  He's right!  This is boy stuff.  The scrap yard is dirty, noisy....and dangerous.  No place for Mommy.  We may not throw a baseball very often....who needs that!  We have the scrap yard!  Booya!

I grab the big bag of pop cans from the shed - and toss them in the trunk.  Nicholas piles into the car (he's brought one of his stuffed doggies - apparently they need to see this as well), buckles his seat beat and proclaims his readiness.

And we're off!  Over hill, over dale...to the scrap yard - it never fails!

When we get there - we have to wait for a few minutes while other dudes (not a female to be found) get their metal weighted.  Then it's our turn.

I pile the bag on the scale....and remove my son from the scale.  I'm not scrapping him (but nice try on upping the weight little man!).  The guy asks us what we have.

"POP CANS!  Lots of them!"

"Ok little man" the guy replies with.  He then asks me if this stuff is for "the kid".

I reply in the affirmative.

"Ok then.  You've got 20 pounds of aluminum.  That's $7.  But since its for the kid - I'll make it $10."

"Yaaaaaaayy!"

My son happily collects a piece of paper that says someone owes him $10.  He's excited as we walk through a building full of busted up machinery - and a yard that has a big crane with a magnet for picking up and moving steel (not aluminium....that's a non-ferrous metal - and thus not magnetic.  Learned something new didn't ya!).  We enter the office - and politely wait our turn to cash out.

And there she is!  The sole woman at the scrap yard.  She's the one handling the money!

Nicholas hands over his piece of paper and announces he "would like his loot please".  He's very excited that junk has been turned into money....and that money will eventually be converted back into more junk (read....Moshis).  The scrap lady looks over the counter (there's a glass barrier in the way) and smiles down on my son as she hands over a fresh, crisp $10 spot.

"Here you go sweetie.  Don't spend it all in one place."

"Oh.  Don't worry.  I've got plans for this money.  Thank you!"

My son is beside himself with joy!  So much so that he seems to have forgotten that Little Caesars....that nirvana of pizza goodness is only 1 minute away.  He doesn't care.  He's got cash.  He places it safely in his pocket for the ride home.

"Oh wow Daddy!  That was really cool!  Just wait until Mommy see's my money.  I am totally rich now!"

Or he was...for all of 15 minutes.  He had that spent on eBay in short order.  He decides what he wants  I buy it....and he forks over the money to me.  I always get ripped off on the transactions....but at least he's chipping in - like a good Moshi addict should.

If your car has aluminum rims...please send me your address.  My son and I will there in short order to take them off your hands....you don't need to be there - we'll just jack up your car and take care of it for you.  Cast aluminum is worth more money than the aluminum they use for pop cans.  :)

Finger Lickin' Good!

I may have already mentioned this....and if I'm starting to repeat myself I apologize - but a momentous occasion has taken place.  My son has expanded his food options to include....drum sticks!

No.  Not the ice cream Drumstick thing.  Dairy impacts his mood (trust me on that).

Drumsticks.  As in the legs of formerly upright chickens who now reside in my fridge (they were on sale - so we'll be eating these things for awhile).  And these aren't just any plain ole drumsticks.  These are customized with a special homemade Shake n' Bake knockoff recipe.  I could tell you how I make it...but I'm not going to.  If you want that - you're going to have to ask in the comment section.

Oh - you have no idea how freakin' excited I am about this!  Not the sale part...although that's pretty sweet too - the actual consumption of something new.

Now for the those of who have neural typical children....I'm sure you've had challenges getting your kid(s) to eat different foods.  For those of us who have kids who are on the spectrum - it can be downright impossible.

Nicholas' diet has always been somewhat limited (when he was a baby - he'd eat whatever we shoveled into his face...he didn't care - he ate it all) since he was about the age of 3.  For the most part - I'm pretty sure if we fed him nothing but pizza (Little Caesars being his favorite) or bacon (chicken bacon....we switched over from the 'good' stuff - we don't want an obese kid) he'd be happy as a pig in feces.

Here's an overview of what he will eat - for those that are interested:

• Pizza.  Pizza.  And more pizza.  Like I said Little Caesars is his favorite...but he'll eat other pizza as well (even the ones we make him).  The last blood test revealed that his red blood cells had been fully replaced by little pepperonis.  Nicholas is fine with this.

• Crazy Bread.

• Waffles.  With peanut butter.

• Bacon.  The chicken kind seems to go over well....but he would prefer the pork variety (who wouldn't?)

• Lasagna.  Home made too.

• Chicken fingers.  We make those too.

• Pasta.  Just about any kind of pasta.  Has to have a mixture of tomato sauce and cheese (some soy based cheese mind you.  Dairy is problematic).

• Zookies.  Those are some type of animal cracker thing.  They go down well with Nutella to dip them in.  This has become a favorite of mine as well.

• Chips.  Any kind - but preferable Sour Cream n' Onion.  These are typically purchased for me....but then he finds them and eats them.

• Popcorn

• Pears (sliced into quarters please and thank you).

• Strawberries (if Mommy hasn't eaten them all)

• The occasional blueberry.  

• Ketchup (or catsup for those who like to call it something other than what it should actually be called).  It can either be on food....or just on a plate.  He doesn't care.  Ketchup is a food group unto itself.

Notice a pattern here?  With the exception of a few fruits - its mostly carbs and some protein.  Any green stuff we are able to get in him has been hidden in pizza sauce.  It's amazing what you can do with a high end blender and food processor.

So last night - drumsticks were made.  They were cooking in the oven (350 for about an hour or so)....and the kitchen was smelling really good - then its gets interesting.

"Hey!  What's that smell?"

"Drumsticks man."

"Hmmmm....smells pretty good.  I want one!"

"And the magic word is what exactly?"

"Now!"

"Try again."

"Please?"

"Much better.   Now try it again with the magic word in a sentence."

"Ahem.  I would like a drumstick please!"

"Awesome!  So would I.  And as luck would have it - they're done."

"Good!"

Parental eyeballs rolling....

So I take them out of the oven, and check to ensure that they are done.  These are drumsticks....not actual chicken.  Sounds strange doesn't it?  We don't really tell him that something came from an animal....he's an animal lover.....and that just might cause problems.  We keep things vague to ensure some sanity is maintained in the house.

"Here little man.  Here's one.  Be careful - it's really hot.:

"Okay.  I will.".  And he grabs his plate and heads off to his computer.  Some kids watch tv while eating.  Ours watches YouTube (which in part explains why 65 gig a month is still not enough bandwidth.).

I grab a few drumsticks as well (yes.  It was lazy chef night...I didn't make anything else - just drumsticks) and head off to my computer to watch Mad Men.

A few minutes later I heard some foraging sounds up in the kitchen.  I don't bother to investigate.  The elusive and wily child is on the prowl....and he's hunting drumsticks.

Upon investigation - I discover that he scored himself 3 more.  This is great news!  Another food item has been added to his repertoire!  And it was homemade stuff too!

Take that Colonial Sanders!  My stuff is finger lickin' good too!

We Used To Have Nice Stuff

Today's post takes a darker turn.  If you want fun, happy and light - please move on.  This post isn't any of those.  This post is about why we don't have nice stuff....or at the very least - why our once complete set of awesome dinner wear is nearly extinct.

Autism is a neurological disorder that effects different people in different ways.  Some autistics can't speak.  Ours does.  Some autistics are shy.  Ours isn't.  Some autistics are occasionally aggressive.  Ours can be.  For the most part - our son is a happy, lovable, and sweet child....but every once in a while his 'demon' pays us a visit.  And his demon's name is "El Destructo".

For reasons we are not always able to figure out - there are time when "El Destructo" visits us - and literally makes our life a living hell.  How is that you ask?  Why Paul....from what you've described of your son....he sounds like a good kid.  He is.  Most of the time.  But there are times when things don't go Nicholas' way....there are times where even the smallest thing just sets him off....and there are times when even I have a hard time liking him (loving him always....but liking him?  Well...that can be a challenge at times!).

"El Destructo" is a prick.  We don't like him.  My son doesn't like him.  And the contents of our house certainly doesn't like him.  Allow me to elaborate for the uninitiated.

When "El Destructo" stops by people (parents) are going to hit (hard), things are going to be thrown (typically glass items) and treasured items that my son typically treats with respect are going to get messed over.  Here are but a few examples of "El Destructo's" less than lovable moments:

• whipping a CD case at the back of Daddy's head while Daddy is driving the car.  That's not fun....and now I just leave the radio alone to whatever it is he happens to be jamming too.  My CDs no longer reside in the back of the car anymore.

• taking a glass jar that used to have coins in it and smashing it all over the kitchen floor.  We have two vacuums in the house for a reason.

• banging into the hallway wall so hard that the drywall is broken.  Not sure how I'm going to fix that one without ripping out a 2" by 3" of drywall.  

• ripping off the front of a drawer in the bathroom.  That one I can fix.  Just wish I didn't have to.  But in his defense....it was really poorly made - and anyone could have done that one.

• hitting Mommy or Daddy.  He hits Mommy more than me.  Not sure why.  He just does.

• being so angry about something that he stomped on his glasses - and then getting even madder when I wasn't able to fix them.  There are some things I just can't fix.

• destroying the contents of his room.  Well....I'm actually ok with that one.  It's his room.  And it's his stuff.  If he wants messed over Ikea dressers....well....that's his business.

• frequently tipping over the recycling bin in the kitchen and generally making a mess of the place.

• the grabbing and smashing of plates on the kitchen floor.  We used to have a really nice set of dinner wear.  Now?  We still have some of the nice stuff....but not enough for a complete table setting.  If you come to my house for dinner - please don't be dismayed that not all the plates match.  They used to.  But now....well...whatever the dollar store has is fine.  It's cheap.  And I can replace it easily enough (who knew the Mikasa set we currently have/had would be so expensive,  $60 for a single plate?)

• And so on and so forth....

Now this isn't to say my son is a bad kid.  He isn't.  But there are times when his autism just takes over his personality - and he does one of those Hulk maneuvers....only he turns red, not green.

This behaviour worries me quite a bit.  Not because I can't handle it.  Things can be fixed or replaced as needed.  Apologies can be made.  And I know my son isn't taking his anger out on me per se.  I can deal with all that.  What worries is that at some point - my son will be 'out in the world' and on his own....and he may have one of these moments that other people are not going to know how to handle, nor have the patience to deal with.  And then?

And then someone is going to call the police.  That's the biggest fear right there.  There have been numerous examples in Toronto over the past few years where an individual with mental health issues has found themselves at the business end of a taser or a gun....and the next thing you know?  There's another person sitting in the back of a cop car - or worse....in the back of the coroner's wagon.  The police and their "I'm above the law" use of authority and brutality against society's most defenseless causes me a great deal of concern.  For the most part - I trust the cops to act in a professional manner (G20 nonsense aside)....but I do not trust them when it comes dealing with individuals who have mental health issues - their track record as of late just hasn't been all the reassuring.  Sure - I can understand the need for force when there is a weapon in play....but I just don't see my son ever doing that.  

He's a good kid.  I hope he'll be a good adult.  I just hope that society - and the police in particular demonstrate more understanding and compassion than I currently see.  I'm getting tired of reading reports in the Toronto Star or The Sun (which I rarely read) where the police have killed yet another person who didn't need to die.

Aren't you?

I also wonder why Toronto - the largest city in the country (and one can assume the largest autistic population as well) does not have an autistic registry to help the police do their job properly?  Seems like a no brainer to me.

But then again - we have Rob Ford for mayor.

Comments?  Criticisms?  Kudos?  I'd love to hear them.   See that comment box below?  Use it!  :)

The Kid Has Cash! Lotsa Cash! Seemingly An Endless Supply!

The mail man came today.  Actually it was the mail woman.  Let's just go with Canada Post employee shall we...much easier that way.  The "mail person" comes pretty much everyday (bur rarely on Fridays it would seem) with an assortment of stuff that generally doesn't even make it into the house (and goes right into the Blue Bin).  Today was an exception.

Today is Valentines Day by the way...the day of the year when men traditionally go out and buy over priced roses and trashy lingerie for their loved ones....or at the least the ones they'd like to love.  I'm taking a pass this year by the way - I don't need a Hallmark moment to express my love for my wife.  (Hope she reads this!  Because....really?  I kind of forgot....again!).

My son...on the other hand is much too young for that stuff (which is fine - I'm not ready to have 'that' conversation).  He did however get something in the mail today.  It was red.  It felt like a card.  It most definitely was a Valentines Day card.

This particular envelope was post marked Guelph.  A lot of nice people tend to live in Guelph (I'm pretty sure most of the nice people currently in Toronto were also born in Guelph).  Guelph is a nice place by the way - trust me....I've been there.  Pretty sure I was even conceived there.  But again - that's another conversation I'm not ready for.  But I digress....

So...there was an envelope addressed to Nicholas.  I knew who it was from - and I even knew what was likely in there - so I just put it on the table for Nicholas to find when he returned home.

About an hour later - Nicholas arrives.  I can hear much yelling and screaming about "the mail!!!".  This is excited screaming....so I'm pretty good with that one.  The "Daddy you suck" screaming I could do without.

I wonder upstairs to soak in the general vibe and excitement:

"Hey dude!  What did you get in the mail?"  All I can see are the remains of a red envelope on the floor...and a card that I doubt he read.

"Money!"

"How much money!"  Never mind the card from Grandma...never mind the sentiment....its all about the cash?

"All of it!"

"Really?  How much is that?:

"10 dollars!  See!  Look!  Check it out!!"....as he starts to madly run around looking for his money jar (it's plastic now by the way....we had an...."incident" a few days ago....maybe I'll write about that - maybe I won't).

"!0 dollars is all of it?"

"Well.....maybe not all of it.  But it sure is A LOT of money!.  See.  Check it out!  You can touch it if you want....but you have to give it back!"

"I've seen $10 bills before man."

"Yeah....sure.  But you've never seen mine!"

"Ok dude.....hand it over!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"You're gonna steal it!".

I know I should be hurt at this point....but I'm not.  I'm pretty sure he's not serious.

"So. What are you going to do with your new found wealth?"

"Buy Moshis of course!"

"How about saving some?"

"What?"

"Saving some.  As in the reason we went to the bank the other day.  Remember?"

"Oh.  Yeah.  That."

"How about we put $5 in the bank....and the rest you can waste...err....invest in Moshis?"

"Works for me!  Now if you'll excuse me....I have to go on eBay to find an ultra rare Moshi!"

"Ok dude.  Have fun finding one for $5."  Plus the shipping.....and all that crap.  I have a feeling this $5 Moshi is going to cost me more than that....we'll see....