We've come away for a few days. On the way here The Boy wanted to play Scooby Doo. These are his instructions for how you play Scooby Doo in the car:
"Right, you'll have to be Freddy as you're driving. I'll be Shaggy because I'm a boy. <points at passing car> Look, Freddy!!!!! MONSTERS!!!!!! Run!!!!!.... Let's play again. Right, you'll have to be Freddy as you're driving. I'll be Shaggy because......"
That's it. The clever part is that you repeat this, over and over, for 220 miles. Four hours. No deviation, no adding in different characters, no trying to pretend that Velma has a driving licence. Just that. For the first time in my life, I missed Scrappy Doo.
On the plus side, this was the view from The Grandmother's back door this morning.
Some things are worth being Freddy for.
This blog is about bringing up The Boy. He's 12 years old and autistic. It's written by The Dad. It's my words, my view. Other people will think differently and have different opinions. Good.