Bad Words

Having a son who is "on the spectrum" can lead to some very interesting conversations about language.  In fact, one of Carson's obsessions is with "bad words." The first thing he asked his host sister when we visited her in Germany last summer was, "What are all the bad words in German?"  Without missing a beat, like a true elementary school teacher, she replied, "We have no bad words!" Luckily, the only "bad word" Carson picked up from our trip was "Nein!" which he likes to say often as difficult young boys do.

Last year the bad word he asked about was "sex."

"Is sex a bad word, Mom?" he asked me one morning on the 8 minute drive to school.

I tried to explain about context. "It's not bad to ask what is the sex of the animal." I gave an example.

"Well, my friend said that he was having sex with his crayon box. Is that bad?"

"That would be an inappropriate way to use the word. You are right."

And I thought the topic was dropped, until one night he was talking about something and this time asked about a different word - FUCK.  I don't know why, but I have told Carson in the past the true meaning of bad words, I guess so he can replace them with the tamer version. For example, I've told him to say poop or crap and not SHIT. Say butt or henie, not ASS. So on this day, he asked me what the word FUCK really meant and why it was a bad word. And told him simply that it meant sex which returned us to our earlier conversation about sex not being a bad word.

"But, Mom," he said in a confused tone, "I thought you said that sex wasn't a bad word. How do you know it's not."

So I said the first thing that came to mind, and that was, "People don't say, 'shut the sex up' when they are mad. They use the F-word."  That seem to satisfy him, and, luckily, he hasn't asked about it since. However, I am still wondering, did I dodge a bullet or plant a bad seed? Only time will tell.

More German Brudders! and Sisters!

So, it's looking like Carson will forever be an only child. We are too old to adopt again, and it won't happen naturally. Just believe me - it won't.  Carson, however, is adapting to his life in his own way.

Since Ole, we have hosted one more exchange student, Julius, in 2014-2015, and last summer the three of us traveled to Germany to attend the wedding of our first German daughter, Mareike.  It was a wonderful experience.  We visited with Ole for a day and Julius and his family for a few days as well. Carson traveled like a pro. He seemed even less stressed out than us, and this summer he keeps talking about wanting to go back.

Carson and Julius

In the meantime, Carson tells everyone that he has 8 German brothers and sisters. He considers all the siblings of the German students we have hosted to be his brothers and sisters. The one he misses the most is Julius's brother, Justus, who is the same age as Carson.

Julius, Carson, Justus, and Dave

Justus and Carson rode a chair lift up the mountain when we went hiking together.

Last summer, the two boys were able to play together harmoniously, probably because they couldn't really speak the other boy's language. They played with war toys and spoke in the language of explosions.  Every other day Carson asks when Justus will come to visit us.

So, maybe, in a few years, we will be hosting again.

My Name is Roger

Last spring my husband and I went to see a presentation by Paul Gasser, family therapist and "Love and Logic" guru. Although we didn't solve all our parental woes in two hours, we did enjoy a story he told of a man in a grocery store with his small child.

The man had a screaming toddler in his cart, and no matter how loudly the boy screamed, the man just kept calmly talking and saying things like, "It's OK, Roger." and "It will be over soon, Roger." and "Should we buy Coke or Pepsi, Roger?"

Mr. Gasser explained how impressed he was by this man's patience, so before he left the store, he stopped the man and asked his secret, "How are you so patient with Roger?" The harried father just looked at Gasser with a sort of blank look on his face and then said, "My name is Roger."

We enjoyed this example immensely, and it told us that we were not alone in dealing with screaming children in public places. It also told us that it is OK to ignore the screaming child and take care of ourselves. So the next time we had a screaming Carson in the store, we looked at each other and smiled and said, "It's OK Roger. It will be over soon."

Our son Carson, however, was not to be so easily dismissed. After about the third time his daddy and I did our "Roger" routine, Carson let us know he had had enough. "Stop!" he said. "I not Roger, I Carson!"

And last night he topped even that. All four of us, me, daddy, Carson, and German brudder, Ole, were traveling home in the van from our shopping trip. Carson was feeling especially crabby because we had left the store without a toy, so he started accusing his German brother of hitting him. It wasn't true but Carson was insisting I scold Ole. "Tell him that's not nice, Mommy!"

Daddy who was trying to figure out Carson's game asked Carson what was going on in the little head of his. That's when he smiled evilly and said, "My name's Roger!" We all started laughing and wondering where that came from since we had not said anything about Roger. I wondered if we have created a monster, an alter ego for our little Carson. What HAVE we done!

I am wondering if the next time all the kleenexes are pulled out of the box and scattered around the living room if I'm going to hear, "Roger did it." I need to do some more research to see if "Love and Logic" has any advice about taming my child's evil alter ego! In the meantime I guess I'll just have to tell Carson that Roger is not welcome in our house!

A German Brudder

Well, we have decided to host a German student, again. The idea is that this will be temporary, until he finds a different home...we'll see. Carson is excited about his "German brudder", although I am not sure if he truly understands what a German brother is.

A while ago, just after Carson turned two,we were thinking about whether or not to adopt again. I asked Carson if he would like a brother. He said, "Uh-huh." Surprised by his quick response, I asked him if he would like a sister. Same response, no hesitation, "Uh-huh", and then he added, "Can I eat them."

"What?" I asked.

And then he added, "I want two butters!" Oh....hey wait, what did he think a sister was?

Well, anyway, we have told him about his German sister Mareike, who lived with us in 2003 and 2004, and he can even pronounce her name really well. So when this opportunity came up to host again, I started asking Carson if he would like a German brother. Every time I ask the question, well all but one time when he was tired and cranky, he has said, "Yes!" He has even been bringing up the topic of a German brother on his own.

As we were driving home from a recent visit to Grandma and Grandpa, Carson was playing one of his favorite made up games where he points at the safety icon on his carseat and asks, "What's this?" To which I usually respond in a funny voice, "That's a bebe!" because it's a picture of a baby. Well, this time he said, "That's a German brudder." I realized that he thinks this German brother is going to be a baby, so I told him that the German brother is older. Carson started to cry. Hmmmm.....does this mean he wants a little brother. Well, Carson, we can't always get what you want!

Merry Christmas 2010!!!!

Notice that the shirt says, "Believe Me. I'm Nice!" This looks like a kid who needs more toys, right?

A Dream Come True

Remember in the beginning, this story began with a dream? The dream I had before we learned that Carson even existed? If you don't, you can check out the first entry in this blog. But if you don't have time or just need a memory refresh - my dream was wacky. It wasn't just about a baby becoming ours. It involved many wacky scenes that didn't make sense...at the time. The part about the golf cart is explained in that first blog entry.

About four months ago, another wacky scene from that dream came to mind. It was the scene where it was like watching a fast-forward of what this baby became. He was older and hyper and dancing on a table. Well, that is exactly what happened. About four months ago, Carson started learning how to climb up from the dining room chairs up to the dining room table; and one day, I walked into the dining room, after having only been gone a second, to find him - dancing - on the table! Ahhhhh! A dream come true!

Other than that deja vu day, Carson has had many many charming moments. I really could write about him daily. Today, he got his first gift from Santa Claus, a late St. Nick gift, and when I asked him if he liked the gift that Santa brought him, he looked at me strangely and said, "Mama brought it!" He is not going to be easy to convince about Santa Claus, but it's OK, he's only 2.

He knows so much and understands so much, but when I ask him if he can say his A-B-Cs, he gets up to G and gets confused. One time he sang, "I'll take you for a ride on a big green tractor!" after G. I have to give that boy points for style, and never being obvious about making a mistake, or maybe he knows it all, like he knows about Santa Claus and is just testing me? It doesn't matter. I love it all!

Potty Training 101

Carson with his friend, Chip, who taught him everything he shouldn't know

My son pees in the bathtub every time I bathe him. A little geyser of water forms on the surface and he laughs when I ask him if he is "Making Water". I am amazed thinking of how we used to empty the tub and start over but now just compromise by rinsing him with water from the sink when he is done.

Supposedly, urine is cleaner than spit. My eye doctor once told me that if my contact lens popped out unexpectedly,and I wasn't anywhere near a bottle of saline or a source of water, that I would be better off rinsing it with my own urine than spitting on it. He then went on to remark how he watched a speaker at an eye doctor convention with that same contact popping out dilemma, and the speaker, of course, chose the spitting option. "Making Water" is just not something that can be done discreetly in public without complicated medical equipment or a diaper.

Speaking of which, just this morning as my son was walking around the living room, he grabbed the front of his diaper and said, "Making Water". I texted this funny anecdote to my husband at work to which he replied, "Time for potty training." To which I replied, "Hahahahahaaha!" in a crazy at-my-wit's-end sort of tone. It's not that I am against potty training at all. It's just that we have faced some setbacks in this area. OK, the word "setbacks" is not really adequate to explain it. We have faced pure stubbornness when we have attempted potty training. Even "pure stubbornness" doesn't seem to do the situation justice. I will just have to describe our attempts to reveal why I laugh like a crazy person, and I know my husband was joking when he suggested potty training.

Training Attempt #1: Pre-bath, naked baby boy, running around the bathroom, bends knees slightly and starts to pee on the floor....Frantic mommy grabs insert bucket from potty chair and shoves it in front of baby. Baby boy stops IN MID-STREAM and shakes his head and says, "No" then runs to corner and finishes peeing.

Training Attempt #2: Post-bath, naked baby boy, squats in the corner of the bathroom and announces with a red face, "Push! Poop!" Frantic mommy suggests he sit on his potty chair or on his cushy seat on the big toilet. Baby boy shakes his head and says, "No." Frantic mommy lifts baby boy to put him on potty chair. He screams and wriggles from her grasp. She tries again, but this time attempts to lay him down to put on a diaper. He screams, twists, and rolls away, and continues to squat in his corner. Finally, after successfully pooping on the floor, when asked why by the parents, baby boy announces happily, "I poop like doggy, woof, woof, pant, pant, pant."

Uggggggg! Notice I switch to third person and refrain from using names when I describe these attempts? It is not because I think the reader will not guess the names of those involved or I am trying to protect the not-so-innocent. It is because I am hoping that these are somehow universal stories, that we are not alone in this...well...are we?

Nevertheless, we will not give up. We will continue to try any method, suggestion, gimmick that anyone feels gracious enough to share, but one piece of wisdom that I know first hand that will always hold true is that you can't push a child to do something if he's not ready. I just hope he's ready soon.