Monday, February 18, 2013

I’ve spent the last couple of years playing a weird, stressful game with myself. It’s called “Is he a boy? Or is he weird?”

It’s not all that hard. I’ve had family tell me often that Mac is “weird”. That he has “problems” and “autistic tendencies.” It’s not that these thoughts haven’t crossed my mind as well, but it is particularly bothersome to hear from family members. I see the oddities, the quirks and the mannerisms.  On a side note, never, ever take an online “does my child have autism” test. You will end up recognizing that all your children, your husband and your cat all have autism. Not helpful.

My family of origin doesn’t have a whole lot of “boy” experience. Sure there was a son, but he as surrounded by sisters, five of them. He is a laid back personality to begin with. And he didn’t have much of the way of testosterone laidened peers until he was about eight. So he’s not the best measuring stick.

So I’m left wondering “Is he a boy? Or is he weird?” And there’s a case to be made for either one.

Like when Mac explained "I don't like it when I get in trouble." Me "Neither do I, what should we do about that?" Mac "Let me do whatever I want." Not really that weird. Nor all that boyish. Just human.

However, licking sap off his feet and yelling “yummy.” I’m going to have to go with weird.

Campaigning to name preborn X-Man “Peter Parker.” Pretty boyish. Although I’m pretty sure there was a hope that this brought his new brother some superpowers along with it.

"Mac are you doing what I told you to?" "Yep, but don't come check!" Not weird, not boyish. Very kid-like.

Informing me that he’s scared that I’m haunted….gonna have to go with weird.

Mac's creative. When he wanted to leap from counter to table, or from the treadmill, he brought me a book to read. His very insistent "Read this mommy. NO! Look at your book. Don't look at me.” Didn't set off any alarm bells, none so whatsoever. Conniving. Not weird.

Being awakened by my son jumping on the bed, singing, "I'm naked, I'm naked."  Which he indeed was. Weird. The whole, it being 4:26 am, that was just icing on the cake.

Hearing “get dressed” and taking that to mean “sit in the middle of your room and sing....naked." Weird.

Explaining that it's ok that he peed on my bedroom floor "Because I didn't go stinkies" That’s almost lawyer-esque.

Walking out of his bedroom, sitting forlornly on the couch, at 11:15 pm no less "I wish there were bugs in my room. There aren't any. Not yet." Kinda weird.

”Mac don't pick your nose, it's yucky.”  “But it's yummy to me!” yikes.

Mommy tells Mac "no", Mac shoots mommy. It's a work in progress. But understandable in a way.

Is it typical for your young man to commence peeing with a gunshot noise? That’s weird in my book.

After dinner the other night, Mac and I were going through letters of the alphabet and he was telling me what words began with them. For “q” he told me “quest.” I admit, I was impressed. For “b” he began with bomb, and then moved on to a “very important word. Blood.” As he was listing words, he climbed across every chair in the kitchen, until he reached my chair. He ended up in my lap, arms around my neck, listing “r” words. Mac’s legal name starts with “r” so I looked into his brown eyes and asked “Mac do you know what mommy’s absolute favorite ‘r’ word is?” He tightened his grip around my neck, and earnestly replied “Rooster.”

He might just be weird. But he’s my little boy.


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