Don't let anyone ever tell you that those with autism don't have a sense of humour.
The very best thing about The Boy is his ability to laugh. When something makes him laugh he doesn't stop for ages and ages. He has a laugh that throws its arms around you and can suck you in and forget everything else that might have occurred that day.
He loves slapstick. The sillier the better. He's the reason why ITV3 still exists, watching endless episodes of Mr Bean again and again. His sense of humour has been what's saved us in the middle of many a meltdown. No matter how angry you are, there's nothing funnier than watching Dad fall over, trip up into walls or bang his head on the door.
More recently we've tried to expand our comedy repertoire into accents. The Boy has always done a mean American accent thanks to Ben 10, and for a number of years that was the only voice he used when playing. However after a fruitful Saturday a few weeks ago I'm pleased to tell you that The Boy can now say "Have a Break, Have a Kwik-Krap" in a Scouse accent. These are the essential life skills that I am proud as a father to pass on to my next-of-kin to ensure his safe passage in this world.
Despite this ability to laugh, there's one thing that's still largely lost on him though. Jokes. We've been reading a joke book on the way to school. No laughs. Instead after each joke The Boy has been explaining to me why the joke is funny:
Q:What do you call a boy who likes rolling in leaves?
D'ya get it? It's because boys like trees
Q: What fish can fix pianos?
A: A Tuna fish
D'ya get it? It's because tuna comes in cans
Q: What do you call a girl with a church on her head?
D'ya get it? It's because churches are heavy
Word play seems largely lost on him. And then the other morning he turned the page and read a joke that had him laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Every time he tried to tell the joke he couldn't get the words out. He's been able to read for around four years now and nothing has ever made him laugh like that. Eventually he spluttered out:
Q: What's green and dangerous?
A: An angry lettuce
He's got good taste, my boy.
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.