Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Posts Tagged ‘humor

Wordless Wednesday 25 Dec 12

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Christmas Kisses aren't always welcome!

Christmas Kisses aren’t always welcome!

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Written by Spectrummy Mummy

December 26, 2012 at 4:31 pm

Bye, bye, balloon

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IMG_2806We’d gone to the mall to get balloons for Pudding’s party.  Spectrummy Daddy had another chore to do, so we divided the kids with the aim of meeting back at the balloon shop.  That was Spectrummy Daddy’s first mistake, because with no voice of reason, I happily purchased 28 helium balloons.  You read that right- 28 helium balloons.  And just one car, with four passengers.  I never was good at maths.

But before he got back with the sensible question of how we were going to get them home (I voted for Up style to float our car home), Pudding had

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spied a big Hello Kitty balloon, which just so happened to be wearing the same outfit as the Hello Kitty on her outfit.  With nobody to tell me otherwise, I knew it was meant to be.  I tied it to her Hello Kitty bag so it wouldn’t get lost on the way back to the car.

Spectrummy Daddy and Cubby returned after it was too late to do anything about the number of balloons.  There were so many that I got bored waiting for them to be filled, so I offered to take the kids back to the car while he waited for them.

Which also meant that he was the one who got to look like a clown as he walked through the mall.

We got to the car, I unlocked it and opened the trunk (boot).  Pudding deliberated putting her Hello Kitty in the front, and then I suppose decided that keeping it in the trunk/boot was a safer option, so she carefully laid it down in the trunk.

As I went to help, the car key in my hand stabbed Hello Kitty in the back of the head.  There was a loud pop, then we watched Hello Kitty fold into herself.  Laid out like that, it looked like a corpse in the car, taken out hitman style.  I imagine.

But Pudding didn’t go into hysterics- just calmly told me that we had to fix it.  She’ll make an awesome gangland boss one day.

If Spectrummy Daddy disliked carrying the balloons through the mall, he even less enjoyed trying to stuff 28 helium balloons into our sedan.  We all squashed in, and there was barely room to breathe, which was just as well because you know our voices would have come out like Mickey Mouse.  At least if we’d had an accident, there’d have been extra air bags.

Cubby, ever the master of understatement, pointed out that we had a balloon car now.

Later that day, I’d done my best to salvage the balloon with tape.  Cubby was sleeping, so I offered to stay at home while Spectrummy Daddy went to try a refill of helium.  Of course, it didn’t work.  I’d done far too good a job on my hit.

Spectrummy Daddy knew he couldn’t return home without it, so he tried to buy another.  But that was the last one of that kind.  They only had, of course, an EVEN BIGGER ONE.  So big, it has to have special weights put into the feet!

There was nothing he could do but buy it.  This massive Hello Kitty, bigger even than Pudding, who was the World’s Tallest 5 Year-Old, and hasn’t shrunk since turning six.

He had to walk all the way through the mall looking like Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, and feeling dodgy thanks to the trail of little girls who were suddenly trailing him.  It was, I’m told, worse than 28 balloons.

But he got home, and it was worth it.  This balloon is so big it ‘walks’ of its own accord.  We have to keep it in the safe haven so it can’t set off our alarm.

But big is beautiful- just ask the newest Tallest Six Year-Old On The Planet!

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

December 6, 2012 at 4:13 pm

The Germinator

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If I was a graphics queen, there’d be an image of a Phineas and Ferb germinator right here.  Sorry, all I’ve got is bad puns.

 

I haven’t done a Cubby is Funny post in a while.  Not because he is any less funny, but because there is a whole lot of other stuff going on that pushes it to the back of my mind.  And really, we all need the funny.  It needs to be right at the very front.  Life is just easier with a smile on your face.

Poor Cubby is ill right now.  He has a cough, runny nose, fever and tummy ache.  We’re waiting to go to the doctor in a couple of hours.  Meanwhile, he and I have taken the opportunity to just relax together.  Okay, I’ve taken the opportunity to relax.  He has bursts of hyperactivity, then gets foetal on the floor.  He is only one for cuddling on his terms (he gets that from me!) so I’m begging him to come to me like a needy girl does her bad boyfriend.  This doesn’t appeal to him at all.

What he will do is sit on the sofa with me to watch Phineas and Ferb.  As we watched Dr. Doofenshmirtz makes his latest evil -inator, I asked Cubby what kind of -inator he would make.

A Germinator.

I had to laugh.  Then I wondered, so…is this to take away all the germs that are making him sick?

“Yes…and then SHOOT them at people!”

He really is my boy, what with that sick sense of humour.  Watch out, Heinz Doofenshmirtz, you’ve got competition.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

November 27, 2012 at 9:37 am

Wordless Wednesday 15 Aug 12

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Mummy, come here! I’m NOT going to squirt you…

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

August 15, 2012 at 6:03 am

Wrong Number

with 3 comments

I keep getting calls on my work cell (mobile) phone for my predecessor, but the person calling doesn’t understand English, or the version of it that I speak.  During last week’s hectic preparations, I kept getting call after call disturbing me.  The person on the other end didn’t respond, and I became more and more exasperated.  In the end I took to saying “wrong number” and hanging up.

At breakfast on Saturday morning, those calls started again.  Eventually I gave the phone to Spectrummy Daddy who told them they had the wrong number and they listened and stopped calling.  Just like that.  Obviously they understand American, not English.

The kids are very interested in phone calls.  We usually use skype to talk to our families, and the kids can see who they are talking to, which makes them happy.  With phone calls, they have to know who is on the other end of the line.  Sometimes it is impossible to actually have a conversation because of the incessant questions from both Pudding and Cubby about who I am talking to and what they are saying.

Saturday morning was no different.

Cubby:Mummy, who was talking on the phone?

Me: Wrong number.

Cubby: Was it number six or seven?

Me: (laughing) No, it was just that somebody called the wrong number.

Cubby: Who is called the wrong number?  Is it number eight?

No longer at sixes and sevens, we know it is number 8, with her curves in all the right places!  We’re on to you and how wrong you are.  You’d think after a few years at this that I’d have learned to speak more literally, but I’m still learning.

Yep, our lines are definitely crossed!

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

August 13, 2012 at 6:05 am

Rage Against the Latrine

with 12 comments

Okay, this post is not going to be for the more delicate amongst you.  I will completely absolve you if you skip this one.  I’m talking about potty-training, and truth be told,  I’d like to skip the whole ordeal too, but it seems to be part and parcel of parenting.

And you know this isn’t the first time I’ve sunk so low: try googling “pretzel potty” and see whose blog is the number one hit.  Yes, I make my family so proud!

So, not to be too specific, earlier this week Cubby did something on the potty that he had never done before.  Full disclosure, he did something on the floor near the potty, but it was close enough, and we celebrated, cleaned up, and celebrated some more.

Unlike his big sister, who is queen of positive reinforcement and seemed to potty train herself, Cubby is much more reluctant.  We were therefore delighted to take this next step.  Cubby likes himself some social praise, so I set to telling his teacher, our neighbors, grandparents on Skype etc.  If our paths haven’t crossed in the last week, be glad.  Be very glad.

So yesterday, he tells me he wants to go again.  Yay!  I tell him we have to upstairs to get him on the potty, because <you-know-what> goes in the potty.

No, Mummy, I don’t think that’s right.”

I think my head did that cartoon-swivel thing.  “<You-know-what> goes in the potty, not in your pants,” has been part of our echolaic background brainwashing since before he was born.  Pudding has said it approximately 17 times a day for the last three years.  She lives by that mantra.  He grew up to that soundtrack and adopted it for his own (in word, though not in deed).  It was even one of his first sentences!

There were many ways to handle this, and of course I chose the absolute worst- trying to outsmart him.

Me: Oh yeah, so where does it go then?

Cubby: In the diaper……that’s what they’re for, Mummy.

Wow.  Yes.  Now the big question is, how am I ever going to come up with a strategy for a kid who is already smarter than me?  I need help, if I’m ever to get him from can’t to the can.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

June 8, 2012 at 11:03 am

The End

with 5 comments

There is something pretty sinister about disappearing from my blog for a week, only to emerge with a post entitled “The End.”  Anyway, we’d been in the Drakensberg mountains for a week.  For some kids on the spectrum, a change in routine can be hard for them to handle, but Pudding was spectacular for the entire week, which of course meant that her brother had to be the one acting out.  A week without internet access was quite isolating for me, but obviously something about the area suited her well.

In fact, she was doing so well throughout the week, that I began to get concerned about how she might react to returning home.  I had a couple of talks with her about the fact that her holidays were coming to an end, but she didn’t seem too perturbed.  Finally we got to Saturday: the day we were driving home.  I’d already packed her toys away, so Pudding was busying herself by drawing pictures in the condensation on the windows.

Before long, she became frustrated.  What she sees in her mind’s eye never translates well enough to paper, or glass in this case.  She so loves art and drawing, that her fine motor difficulties are at odds with her perfectionist tendencies.  Several times she drew something on the window, only to rub it away moments later.

Pudding: Mummy, help me!

Normally I love that she will actually ask for help instead of getting angry about something that is challenging.  Normally.  But not when it comes to drawing.  If she finds it hard to translate an image, it is even harder for me to decipher.  I’m neither an artist nor a visual thinker, so my efforts rarely turn out the way she wants.  A week earlier she’d been trying to draw a shower, or a series of showers for different people (Hello Kitty’s shower, Cubby’s shower, Jimmy’s shower) and it had taken a while to produce something satisfactory.  n the end I’d drawn a very similar shower with different colours to denote the ownership.  I was glad that I got there in the end, but it took repeated efforts.

On the morning of our departure, I didn’t have sufficient time to devote to the craft.  I hoped against hope that she would ask for something simple that I could easily reproduce.

Me: Okay, quickly- what would you like for me to draw?

Pudding: The End.

Oh.

I racked my brains.  Was she referring to the end of her vacation, in which case some suitcases and a car might depict her commission.  Or, picking up on her inflection, does she really mean for me to draw The End?  And what in the universe would that look like?  Why is my five-year-old an existentialist?

After a few seconds of looking like a goldfish, I thought of a solution.  This wasn’t so different from Hello Kitty’s shower.

Me: Okay, but you have to tell me- what colour is The End?

Her turn to be the goldfish.  What was I doing talking about colours when we were drawing with our fingers?  In fact, she still hasn’t answered me, and she let me go about my business of getting our things together.  I’m not fool enough to think this is over yet, but I do have a reprieve.  At least until she comes up with a colour for me.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

February 7, 2012 at 9:00 am