Difficult Simple

Nobody likes ill-behaved children. And when I say nobody, I mean nobody, which includes the parents of said children. I’m not excusing bad parents — and there are plenty out there, with their nasty children the result — but pointing out that no one goes into a store or any other public space wanting his or her child to act out.

Nemo is an unusual case in that his Asperger Syndrome results in some odd, though not necessarily disruptive, behavior. He can seem spastic and out of control to some people, but MA and I understand when he’s truly testing the limits and when he’s just being himself. This comes from knowing our child for his entire life, something total strangers simply can’t by virtue of being strangers.

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There are few things I never expected of my life. I never expected to make it past 30. I never anticipated I’d weigh more than 200 pounds. And I never, ever thought I’d watch — voluntarily, no less — bowling on television.

My son Nemo absolutely loves bowling. The affair began around his birthday when his new Wii was unveiled. At the time we only had Wii Sports to play (which is plenty to start with), and Nemo immediately took to the bowling part of the game. Now he’s a veritable expert at the virtual bowling and not bad at the real thing. He even has his own bowling ball and rolling bag. We’re considering the local kiddie bowling league for him, too.

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If I were forced to give Terminator 2: Judgment Day a letter grade, I’d probably give it a C because it hasn’t aged well. It’s not the effects, which aren’t so impressive anymore — I still like the original, untampered-with Star Wars, and its effects aren’t that stellar, either — but the plot holes that have only grown larger over time, the Jake Lloyd-level incompetence of Edward Furlong and, of course Titanic, which is a moviegoing punishment so heinous that its effect reverberates back through time like a cinematic Terminator itself.

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I don’t really care what bullshit the naysayers come up with concerning Cesar Millan; his techniques work, the man is personable and smart and… well, what else is there to say on that subject? I’d love to meet him.

Watching Millan’s television program on the National Geographic Channel has been a regular pastime in our family for a while now. We all love dogs and it had been a while since we lost our last dog, Rugby, so seeing Cesar do his thing with animals was a real pleasure. Eventually we adopted a beautiful, sweet-tempered female beagle from the local pound.

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Today is my son’s seventh birthday. It’s kind of hard to wrap my brain around that, because it really does (cliché aside) feel like just yesterday he was just a tiny baby who did nothing except eat and poop.

Because Nemo has autism, his growing-up years are a little different than they would be if he were an ordinary kid. This is both good and bad. Good in that he has a lightness of spirit and an honesty that’s missing from many children his age, and bad in that he has trouble connecting with people even though it’s clear he wants to.

We’d planned to take him to the local dog park today for some running around with Allie, our beagle, but it’s rainy and cold and icky and so that’s not possible. There’s an indoor playground Nemo likes — not a McDonald’s kind of thing, but a dedicated playground — and we may do that instead. I’m sure he won’t mind.

Seven years. He’s come so far and done so much already. What will the next seven years, or the next year alone, bring?