I've mentioned before about the worries for the future... that period of time when The Boy becomes The Teen and then The Man. But it seems I've been worrying needlessly. The Boy has got it all mapped out.
The other day his friend TheBoyWhoLikesWarwickDavis came over to play again. When I was giving him a lift home the two of them chatted in the car like I'd never heard them talk before. One sat in the front seat, the other in the back, and that lack of facial contact seemed to free them up, making the words come more freely.
Apparently they are opening a Computer Shop when they're older. They have it all planned out. They are going to sell computers for a million pounds each. They will need a truck as they're going to repair computers too. That will cost ten pounds. Everything is either one million pounds or ten pounds. There are no other monetary values.
Their friend, TheBoyWithLimitedSpeech will be a security guard at their house, because they are going to be rich. They will drive a gold car. A limo. And have a diving board (worryingly, there was no mention of a swimming pool). They will buy a McDonalds and charge people ten pounds to go in. They will buy a movie too. I think they meant cinema, but by this point they were far too excited to worry about little details like that. They will employ slaves to do the work, and pay them ten pounds. TheBoyWhoLikesWarwickDavis will make his Nana a slave as she works hard. I will be allowed to visit their house. It will cost me ten pounds. Neither of them want to be boss, because they both want to drive the truck. Girls aren't allowed in the shop or the house. They didn't mention their plans for the Customer Service department...
It was lovely to spend five minutes just listening to them trying to out-do each other, getting more and more animated. This scary place, the future, that often causes me so much worry, filling every bit of them with delight and wide-eyed wonder. We dropped TheBoyWhoLikesWarwickDavis off home, and although I tried to talk about the Computer Shop again, the moment had gone, packed away and stored for another day.
Then this morning as we're driving to school, out of the blue The Boy suddenly said, "will you help us find somewhere to build our Computer Shop?".
I will, mate, I will. For ten pounds I'll crawl across every inch of the planet to find the finest spot in the whole of the land. I'll dig the foundations with my bare hands and then lay brick after brick after brick for the rest of my days until we have the biggest, brightest, bestest Computer Shop that's ever been built.
And then you will live there happily ever after.
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.