The Boy is beginning to recognise Girls. For a long time he didn't know the difference between a boy and a girl, apart from girls had long hair. Boys with long hair were also girls. But now... I think he knows.
We were driving home from school the other day. We pulled up alongside a bus in traffic. The Boy has always liked staring at people on buses. Face to face he'll barely acknowledge you, but when we pull up alongside a bus It's like the glass offers protection, and he can examine the strange creatures onboard closely. Watching. Studying. Learning.
On this day The Boy suddenly turned away. "They waved at me", he said.
"Who did?" I asked as the traffic moved and we drove on.
"Teenagers". Teenagers has always been his name for anyone who appears older than seven but younger than thirty. He says the word as if they're trouble. Big People.
I asked him if he waved back. He looked at me like this was the first time he'd ever heard of such an idea. That a human being might reciprocate a greeting to another, what a ridiculous notion. "No", he said incredulously.
We said no more, and carried on the journey home as normal with him watching Minecraft videos on my mobile phone and me trying to decide what the bloodyhell to write in the next blog.
The next morning we're driving back to school, same Minecraft video, same route, same routine, same Groundhog Day, same, same, same, same, same... and then a thought occurs to me.
"Hey, you know these teenagers who waved at you yesterday... Were they girls?"
He blushed! The Boy blushed! He went bright red and just looked even harder at the video he was watching. "Shuuuutttuuuuuuppppppppp", he drawled.
"They fancied you!", I said, "those girls fancied you!"
"Stoooppppp!", he said, getting redder and redder.
"You must be really good looking if they waved at you, they must have thought you were hot. Next time you should wave back."
And then it was as if he remembered what to do, he'd seen it in a film. He looked up from the screen.
"Nah", he said, getting excited, "next time I'll wink at them like this".
Then he scrunched up one eye and his tongue stuck out and his whole face grimmaced as he practiced his seductive wink. And I'll be honest, it maybe needs a bit of work to remove the sinister overtones, but once we've mastered that, I reckon we're on to a winner.
Lock up your daughters. The Boy's in town.
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.