My husband called me at 4:30 pm yesterday afternoon to inquire about the boy. “The date has commenced” I replied. “Don’t call it that…” He admonished. “Play date then?” I replied with a chuckle. “Marsh!” He replied crossly. “Whatever you want to call it…he’s there”. I added. “How did he look?” He asked. “Very handsome, though I’m biased” I laughed. “I took his picture, under protest, of course. He kept complaining that I was stealing his soul” I laughed. “Well you were…” Hub replied. “He told me to take a picture of him from behind. I told him I don’t shoot people in the back-which made him laugh and turn around”. *snap*
Shortly before 11:00 pm, the boy knocked on our front door; home from his time spent with A and her family. As I opened the door, there stood my boy, new shirt in hand, rather than on his back. “Momma this is basically clean as I only wore it to her house and took it off almost immediately because it was too warm to wear”.Well so much for trying to look nice… I thought to myself”. “So how was your dayyyytt” I asked. “It wasn’t a date” he replied quickly. “I know, I’m sorry. I meant to say day but the “t” sound just slipped out” I said trying to cover, while his sister began to tease “You were on a dayyyaaateee, You were on a dayyyaaatteee”.
Ignoring his sister the boy began… “They had a very nice patriotic colored firework’s display” That’s all you have to say?” I asked, trying not to be intrusive, but curious just the same. “I had a very nice time…” He added. “You know, when I was leaving (from dropping him off) I heard you remark about the size if their foyer…” He smiled sheepishly. I laughed and added, “Something about how our entire house could fit in theirs?” “I think I said “Wow, you have a large house…” He explained. “Did you have a tour?” His sister asked, just as curious as me. “Yes and I was right…” He said. “Right?” I asked. “Their house is huge…and they have lots of decorated roosters in their house” He said while I laughed; of course that’s what he noticed…
“First we went to A’s swim meet” He began. “How did she do?” I asked. “Uh, okay…I wasn’t really paying attention. I was talking with a friend of their’s who happens to have Down syndrome and his parents.” The boy explained. “I met A’s dad and judging from his book case, he’s very well read in a little vignettes-and religious fanciful’s; you know like C.S. Lewis short stories.” “Hmm” I replied. “I think all the adults at their country club were genuinely surprised by my ability to talk so easily with them. Thanks to Aspergers I’m the antithesis of a teenaged boy” he said and then smirked. “I wouldn’t go that far” I said and we both agreed.
“What about your time with A…what did you do? “We talked. She asked me a million questions to see if we liked the same type of music.” He said. “Let me guess…you don’t”. I said. “No, we don’t; however, I’m not sure there are many kids my age who like Jethro Tull”. “No I suspect not…” I replied. “Perhaps her dad does…”I offered. “Eh…her dad was very nice but I was acutely aware he knows how to knock me out, medically speaking” Which caused me to laugh (her father is an anesthesiologist). “…if I get out of line.
“But you had a nice time?” I asked. “Yes I did. They were all very nice middle European’s”. “What?” I replied. “I seem to think A told me they are of middle European dissent.” “Um, okay then…” I stammered. Glancing at the clock I announced bedtime and our conversation came to an end; but not before he gave me a great bear hug and kissed me goodnight.