Dad Knows Best

Cody recently broke his favorite flip flops while chasing one of our cats. The bare foot cat chaser came up the stairs, slops in hand, with the look of utter despair on his face. “My best slops are broken” was all he could say, again and again and again and again. The only thing that would return him to his chipper self was my offer of a new pair of slops.

Now taking kids shoe shopping is a nightmare at the best of times, but when the child is autistic with sensory issues, it becomes a herculean task. We piled into the car and headed to our local shopping mall, which happens to be the largest in the southern hemisphere. This, for most, is a benefit, as everything is under one roof. But when your son only likes to park on level A1 and the shoe shops are on level Z99, it becomes an expedition. We had to plan a half way stop at the Milky Lane for some ice-cream and waffles and a banana split and then some pancakes for dessert. After our snack stop, off on the dreaded shoe hunting we went.

Now Cody has a knack of being able to choose the most expensive items without ever seeing the price. So being a wise and cunning chap I decided to go to the pricier shops first and save all that time rummaging through the discount bin at the wholesale shops.I should have realized that the first shop was out of our price range when the assistant offered us a doll sized cup of espresso and two tiny biscuits, named after a long dead British Baroness, as we entered. Luckily for me the shoes were as hard as the biscuits on offer, so Cody, after letting them know their shoes were rubbish, and with a few of the posh cookies in his pocket, walked out.

The next port of call was a sports shop. This in hindsight was a stupid move on my part, as The Soccer World Cup is only 5 days away and the only shoes on sale had some unknown Italian footballers face emblazoned on the sole. For the privilege of walking on the pride of Italys face, we had to pay the price of a small car. So we left, but not before we had bought 5 flags, 3 jerseys and the obligatory vuvuzela. The vuvuzela is a trumpet-like instrument, which has the sole purpose of being louder than 50 000 British football hooligans. But enough of that, it will get a posting all of its own soon.

After 4 or 5 more “upper class” shops we had got no closer to securing a purchase, so I had to admit defeat and go to the bargain basement shops. Cody and I have a bond deeper than I can explain in this post, so I knew that he would find nothing that he liked at these shops. Reluctantly I followed him into the first shop, to find him quietly standing at the counter with a pair of shoes firmly in his grasp. Speechless, for the first time in years, I walked over to Codes and checked the shoes out. They were the right size, looked good and best of all, they were cheap.

Looking Good

As I went into the bedroom this morning, the first thing that struck me was the lovely flowery aroma permeating the air. The second thing was my son on my white duvet with a 2 inch thick layer of cream on his face. All that was visible was two eyes and a left nostril. His face looked like some loony impressionist had gone to town with a palette knife, while exploring his ‘White Period.”

I’ve read all the books, so with a calm, nonjudgmental voice, I asked, “Why have you got cream all over your face Codes?” To which he responded, “Don’t say why you got cream on your face?” This is his ‘talk to the hand’ response to questions he doesn’t want to answer. But I really wanted to know his thinking when he decided to smear all Ninas creams …..OH…did I forget to mention that the creams used weren’t body lotions and the such like, they were Ninas collection of face creams. Cody smelled like a ylang ylang infused kiwi fruit. Nina doesn’t buy many girly creams and applications, but when she does, its usually a pretty good one. So as Cody sat there amongst the Clinique, Clarins and other ozone loving, bunny friendly jars, I just had to know why he put the cream on his face.

I had to change tactics if I was to get anything out of him. If he battens down the hatches, I would get nothing, and I was dying to know. I weighed up my options and settled on the good old fallback tactic of bribery. The jist of it was that we would go to the shops and get some play-dough. But we had to get the cream off first, and to do this I had to know why he put it on. He thought for a while, which had me worrying that maybe I`d used this approach once too often, then he announced, “I’m putting cream on, just like David Beckham.”

The penny dropped straight away. With the World Cup 8 days away, every TV channel has soccer 24/7. Not only the sports and news channels as you might expect, but every program out there somehow manages to squeeze the soccer in to otherwise totally unrelated content. There is nowhere to hide. While scanning through the channels I was ambushed by BBC food. As Jamie Oliver hand tossed a rustic salad of freshly picked sidewalk weeds, he looks up at his guests and asks, “So when you go to South Africa for the World Cup, do you take your own chef or…………..?” I couldn’t bare to hear what Wayne Rooney was going to snack on after a tough game against one of the underfunded third world teams, so I flicked through till I had landed on the one channel that could not possibly be linked in any way to the football. Yip, the Animal Channel would be my refuge for a few hours, or so I thought, until ‘Pets of the World Cup Stars’ came on, so the TV went off.

Even though he is not playing, David Beckham is discussed more than any player, local or international. Cody must have seen one of the channels discussing mens products and David must have come up as an example. The mystery was solved, now all I had to worry about was my 7 year old autistic metro-sexual son, and what to sell to replace Ninas creams. With out them she would look li……,……no wait, better not go there.

I want it back

I regret to report that Cody was the victim of a snatch and run robbery this afternoon. While in the presumed security of our lounge, the brazen thief climbed strait in the window and stole something very dear to Codys heart. His Jam Sandwich.

It was at this point that we heard a scream like we’ve never heard from Cody before; we rushed into the lounge to see the intruder inches from our precious son. Nina (she’s the scary one), rushed at him yelling all sorts of things I can’t write here because my mom reads this. He looked up, and quick as a flash was out the window and up the nearest tree. He sat there and enjoyed his loot right in front of Cody. At this point I should probably tell you that the criminal was one of our resident pilfering primates. At this time of year (winter) the food situation for them is bleak, so every now and again they drop in for a little take-away.

None of this was any consolation to Cody, his Jam Sandwich was gone. This injustice needed an instant, direct response, so he sat down and sobbed. His deep, Barry White inspired, sobbing was only interrupted by, “H..H..He t.t.t.toook my san…san…sandwich.”, “Monkeys eat bananas not sandwiches.”, “I want my sandwich back.”, “It’s the end of the world.”, “Tell him to give it back.”, “It’s the end of time.” “Can you help me get the sandwich back?” At which point I had to tell him the sad truth that his much loved snack was gone for good. This revelation brought on a fresh and intensified bout of mourning that got progressively louder every time we told him that we could not get the sandwich back. At this point we decided deception was our only way out, so we told him we would go after the monkey and get his sandwich. So into the kitchen we went, made a new sandwich, and started our Oscar winning performance.

“Hey, monkey that’s Codys sandwich give it back.” “I said give it back now, or else.”“OK that’s it, I’m coming to get it”. “Take that monkey; you want a piece of me do you.”“Not so tough now, hey.” On and on my threats went till I was convinced Cody had bought my little ruse. With my soliloquy over, I went back upstairs to let Cody know that his heroic dad had rescued his sandwich. Unfortunately we had no continuity producer, so on handing the sandwich back to Cody, he took one look at it and said, “It’s not my sandwich, and mine had two bites out of it.” So back downstairs I went to let the monkey know he had given the wrong sandwich back and that I wanted the real one. After taking out the two bites necessary for authenticity, I returned to present Cody with his sandwich.He accepted it without question and all the wailing stopped instantly. He sat down and tucked into the sandwich. Not giving the monkey another chance to nick his lunch, he stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. Sitting there, cheeks stuffed, resembling Marlon Brando from the Godfather he looked at us and said, “Can you make a sandwich for the monkey, he must be very hungry. You took his lunch.”

You cant jump across a river in two jumps

Bob Hope, Phyllis Diller, George Burns and Woody Allen are collectively considered the masters of the one-liner. But, as any parents with an autistic child will tell you, the aforementioned celebs are mere minnows next to our one-liner titans. Autism has blessed our little hooligans with an innate ability to cut through all the political correctness and hit the nail on the head with a very large and blunt hammer. No title, social standing or class escapes the direct approach employed by “Auties".

The current collection of politicians in South Africa is enough to elicit laughter on its own, yet Cody still has a go at them every now and again. This morning while we were watching the news he asked, “Why is Jacob Zuma(President of S.A.) always on TV? He should be working. He’s not an actor, is he Daddy?” I couldn’t say anything. The Poms don’t elude Codys scathing political analysis either. During the recent British elections, David Cameron (Current British P.M.) was standing at a raised lectern speaking to a group of factory workers, when Cody turned and asked, “Why is he so high above the people, it makes him shout at them.” Once again I had nothing to say. He also once asked if Australians lived on an Island because nobody else liked them. This time I had heaps to say.

Cody is an equal opportunity humorist and wouldn’t dream of leaving anyone out in the cold, so in that vain he recently asked me, rather loudly, why a very overweight guy at the supermarket was so fat. The guy heard Codys remark and smiled and said to Cody, “God thought I was so special, he made a lot of me.” To witch Cody instantly responded, “I don’t ever want to be that special dad.” I looked up at the chap, preparing my apology, when, to my relief, he burst out laughing and gave Cody a hug. I often find political correctness gets in the way of people really talking. Cody, without the social inhibitions that the rest of us have drummed into us from an early age, can chat to anyone without judging them, while we would rather avoid anyone who is different and without even talking to them, judge them from a distance. Cody, a few months ago, asked a guy in a wheel chair why he had no legs. The man told Cody he had lost them in an accident. At this response Cody laughed out loud and long. The other people around us glared at me shook their heads and some even mumbled that I should give Cody a good hiding. I could see them wondering how we could be so insensitive. Cody eventually stopped laughing and said to the guy in the chair, “You cant loose your legs silly, they are stuck onto your bum.” After the guy in the wheel chair stopped laughing he said to Codes, “You know, you are very right. I didn’t loose them, they were taken off because they were very sick and if they didn’t take them off I would have died.” We said our goodbyes and as I turned to take Codys hand, Geoff(that’s the guy in the chairs name) tapped my leg and said to me,” You know I thought I’d lost them all this time and people tend to miss things they’ve lost more than the things they have given away.

Although anyone can be the target of Codys unconventional wisdom, Nina and I are the prime targets on a daily basis. “I want parents, not a couple of pirates”, “Come here you old witch”, “Stop singing dad, its awful.” are just a few of his recent offerings. My all time favorite is, “You can’t jump across a river in two jumps.”

I`m feeling very Olympic today.

My Dad, and everybody’s Pops, is on a diet, and Kira has taken on the role of personal trainer. So there has been the talk of exercise in the air. Cody has picked up on this and has decided he wants to exercise, but not any old exercise, the worst exercise of them all. Yes, it’s true, he wants to JOG. Of all the fun things out there to do, Cody has chosen jogging. Now, I love my boy more than all the play dough in the world, but there is no way I am going to become a jogger. Joggers should just leave an hour earlier and walk. I once dreamed I was jogging, I woke up in a terrible sweat. It wasn’t all bad though, I got my rest and my exercise at the same time.

Now, during the last Olympics Cody really got into the spirit of the games and re-enacted every, and I mean every, sport they showed on TV. For three weeks we had a podium in the lounge and a ribbon across the passage. He would lift the broom from the ground grunting and groaning as only a Turkish weightlifter could. The couch doubled as a canoe during the paddling events, we drew the line after he asked us to throw water at him.
The gymnastics was a particularly stressful event for us as they started with the beam and followed it up with the rings and the vaulting. We, for obvious reasons, couldn’t watch the archery and javelin.

So with his history as an Olympic athlete, I thought I could steer him away from the jogging thing and towards a more interesting form of exercise. Gymnastics, unlike jogging, is a respectable pastime so I asked Cody if he would like to try it out. Shockingly he agreed straight away, and asked “When can we go?” I said I would go and check at the Gym if they had classes and when they were, to which he replied, “When we go can we jog there?”

I want a website

The first thing I heard this morning was “I want a website”. This statement came from a cute face, millimeters away from my half sleeping mug. While I was still trying to focus on waking up, Cody decided that repetition was the answer to getting his way. So as I joined the land of the living all I could hear was,” I want a website, I want a website, I want a ………you get the picture. So for reasons of sanity I relented.

“Ok, so what kind of website do you want Codes” was my first question. His answer left me more confused than usual. So instead of trying to tell you what he wanted, I’ll let him tell you. (unedited instructions for Codys website, as typed by him)

“I want to get a webpage and download tom and jerry. Videos games wallpapers movies and much much more. Dad said I can get movies games and much much more.
But I can do that things like videos pictures games and cartoons and much much more. I can call it Codys page.”

So my instructions were clear. A Tom and Jerry and much much more website. No problem. I had some concerns over copyright infringement, but hey, they couldn’t sue a 7 yr old autistic kid. But just in case I opted for a google home page with Tom and Jerry gadgets, oh yes and much much more. The first step was to set up a google account. For this we needed a email address. After a short explanation of what email was I asked Cody what he wanted his email address to be. After a short silence he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Warner Brothers cartoons”. Unfortunately warnerbrotherscartoons@gmail.com was taken so we had to choose again. His next choice was available, so tomandjerryandmuchmuchmore@gmail.com it was to be. Our next task was to choose a password. What followed has to be one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had . It started with me trying to explain what a password was.

Me : It’s a secret word that only you know and when you use it the computer knows it’s you.
Cody: Yes.
Me : So have you got a word you want to use?
Cody: Yes.
Me :What is the word?
Cody: Its secret.
Me : Yes it is, but you have to tell me so I can set up your homepage.
Cody: Yes I know.
Me : Well can you tell me?
Cody: (Huge sigh) THE PASSWORD IS SECRET!
Me : I know Codes but you ……OH, is secret the word you want to use?
Cody: Yes
Me : Sorry boy, it has to be 8 letters.
Cody: OK.
Me : Have u thought of one?
Cody: Yes.
Me : Will you tell me what the word is?
Cody: Its 8 letters.
Me : That’s good Codes, what is the word?
Cody: (Sigh) Its 8 letters
Me : (picking up on the sigh) is the word you want to use 8 letters
Cody: Yes, (I start typing….8… l..e..t…t…e) No, silly is not that its
********.
Me : AAAARRRGGGG ………………………….I love you Codes.
Cody: What’s AAAARRRGGG ….I love you Codes?
Me : It’s the same as I love you , but times 10 more.

The Trip

With winter fast approaching, it is now possible to spend more than 10 min outside without having to dodge those pesky ultra-violets. So after a weekend of honing our bush skills in Codys room, surviving on our instincts and microwave lasagne alone, we decided some bird watching would be a good way to test our newfound prowess.

Planning was essential, as the African bush can be a harsh place if you are not properly prepared. I got Codys backpack out and started to pack the essentials needed for a day out in the bush. Water, a snakebite kit, GPS, and a bucket of sunscreen were some of the items I laid out on the bed. It was at this point that Cody walked in and asked, “what u doing?” After a thorough explanation of why we needed all these things, Cody, without saying a word, left me alone to pack for our little adventure. With all the important stuff packed I called to Cody to get ready. “I’m getting some stuff for the trip” came his reply.
“Well bring them here so I can pack them. We need to get going.”

So he did. The first item he brought was his torch. This proved he understood the realities and dangers facing us in the wilds of Africa. His next contribution was his entire DVD collection. All 86 of them were dumped on the bed. I asked why we needed DVDs on a hike, to which he responded, “So we don’t get bored”. I explained that we needed stuff that could help us if things went wrong. I could see the penny drop. So he cleared all the DVDs up and put them back in his room, returning with 4 DVDs and proudly handing them to me. “What are these?” I inquired, “Helping DVDs” he answered. The DVDs he had selected were, Journey to the Centre of the Earth, Brother Bear, Madagascar and The Wild. So in they went. I`m sure they could come in handy on our morning hike. He then brought flippers for swimming across rivers, a tennis ball so we could play with the animals, sticky tape to stick things with and an extra pair of undies. The undies I could understand, after all the bush could be a scary place.

Now with all our stuff packed we got into the car, ready to go. Luckily living in Africa puts you slap bang in the middle of a huge variety of natural wonders. So I decided to give Cody the choice of where to go. The forest, bushveld, coastal dunes or the mangroves. We were spoilt for choice. I could see him processing all the options. After a long silence came his answer, “Lets go to the lounge, I want to watch Tom and Jerry

Sport, sport and yet more sport

It’s been a quiet weekend, which was brilliant for me .Because with all the sport on the telly I had a serious weekend of couch and remote hogging ahead. The F1 race on Sunday was to be the culmination of a few days of back to back sport. Now with motor racing, it’s not good enough to watch just the race. There are 3 practice sessions and the qualifying session to factor in. It just doesn’t feel right to watch the race if you haven’t paid your dues by forcing yourself to watch the practices. At least that’s what I told the kids every time they threw themselves on the floor moaning that “sport is so boring”.

Besides the Grand Prix, there was rugby, which is a game played by 30 rather large blokes all intent on ignoring the ball and concentrating more on raising the oppositions medical bills. Thus reducing their ability to buy bigger players and doing the same thing to you the following season. Now with rugby, it is impossible to watch without letting the ref. know how poor his eyesight and sense of direction are. Cody finds this very amusing, “who you talking to daddy?” and “the TV can’t hear you” can be heard between the raucous laughter. I’m sure he thinks I’m autistic and sport on the telly is my stim. He might not be far off the mark, the Hindenburg could land in the living room, and as long as it wasn’t blocking the TV, I, more than likely, wouldn’t notice.

My other obligation this weekend was the cricket world cup. For those who aren’t familiar with cricket, tough, explaining it would be pointless. I have been playing it for 30 yrs and still have no idea what’s going on. A match can last anything from 3hrs to 5 days, so watching rights have to be renegotiated every few hours. Being the skilled negotiator he is, Cody has come out, after some of the longer games, with a plethora of DVDs and promises of trips to places far and wide. He is still owed 3 trips to Argentina and one to Armenia after the last series against our longstanding rivals, Australia. To add insult to injury when asked who his favorite players are? He, without hesitation, says “Ricky Ponting and Mike Hussey”. These two play for the Ausies. I can feel all the fathers reeling after that statement, so I know they will understand the agony those two names coming from my sons lips causes me. Autism is nothing, but please don’t let my boy be an Australian supporter. Institutionalization might be the only way forward if his cricket affiliations don’t change. I’m just not sure which ones would accept me.

Ahhh... the great indoors

Ahhhhh….camping, the freedom, the wide open spaces, the distant hooting of the lesser grass owl, the unmistakable sound of………….the bathroom door slamming. Yip, you read right, the bathroom door slamming. Let me explain.

Cody woke up this morning feeling very autistic. He made his way to the couch and glued himself to the TV. We usually take these “zone out” times as a chance to get some stuff done, but this time, 5min was all we got. I blame our short break on Ty Pennington and his home makeover team. It was He and his inconsiderate team who decided to build a camping room for a young girl whose family had lost everything in a tornado. I have two issues with this. Firstly, since the girls’ family had lost their house, they had been living with neighbors in a caravan. Surely she was sick and tired of camping. Secondly, did he not anticipate Cody’s total infatuation with the camping room concept?

Well it was too late to change his mind, as his repeated “I LOVE CAMPING ROOMS” confirmed. As any parents with an autistic child can attest to, you just have to pick your battles and this was one skirmish I was just not up for. So a camping room it was to be.
Luckily we’re an outdoorsy family and all the necessary equipment was close at hand. I dragged myself out to the shed and returned with our tent and two folding chairs. The chairs were a breeze to set up and with Cody watching I was looking like the great outdoorsman I had told him I was. I effortlessly slipped the tent out of its bag and with one flick opened it out on the floor. I could see the awe and admiration in my sons’ eyes as I reached for the poles. It was at this point that my new found hero status started to crumble. The main reason for my fall from grace was the phrase, “insert upright A2 into crossbar CB 4 using clip X7 to unite aforementioned upright.” Who wrote this line of instruction, a Chinese autistic kid with dyslexia? It must have been someone with autism, because Cody managed to put the tent up faster then my “cool dad” points were plummeting.

Now I have a serious question, why is it that when we go camping the tent is never quite big enough for us and our stuff, but when you put it up at home it doubles in size. It is huge, filling up Codys whole room. The neighbors must think we have been placed under quarantine for some contagious equatorial condition. So here we are with a tent filling up Codys entire room and he turns to me and asks, “Can you get my train set out the cupboard”. AAAARRRRGGGG……….”No trains Cody, its bedtime, jump into your sleeping bag”. Surprisingly there was no argument, into the tent he crawled and slipped into his sleeping bag. I said goodnight and turned to leave when this angelic little voice says,”you got to sleep with me daddy ………….there might be bears”.

If I survive the bears I’ll report back tomorrow on our night under the LEDs

Take care and laugh a little.

The boy,the ball, and the broken window.

Today was, ”teaching Cody to throw day”, and I would like to give all the dads some tips for this very exciting phase in the father son bonding process. The teaching part was simple, despite the 2 broken windows and bruised cat. In fact the first window to go made me so happy, as the ball actually went forward, not behind him like the previous 37 attempts. I was certain his future as a pitcher for the Yankees was secure. Until now I had made all the right moves, but that could not last.

As a reward for all the hard work Cody had put into the throwing lesson, I gave him a little money to buy anything he wanted. The “anything he wanted” part was the first little mistake. After an hour or so of putting back the toasters, coffee machines and the other kitchen appliances he had chosen, we settled on an appropriate “throwing lesson money” present. A ball. The ball itself was a great idea, the fact that it was a rubber bouncing ball was not such a great idea.

Now lets recap, an autistic boy who has just learnt to throw, is now in possession of a little, but highly elastic, projectile. As we got home Cody decided to put his new found throwing skills to the test with his new, very bouncy, toy. The living room became the test facility, and I use the military term ”facility” intentionally, as the living room resembled Baghdad Airport, projectiles flying in every direction.

It was now that my military training came into its own, as leopard crawling was the only safe way to move between the two secure areas, or the kitchen and bedroom as they were formally known. I managed to secure the red zone and neutralize the threat, or as the rest of the family saw it, put the ball in my pocket. Luckily the phrase “ gone to be with its mother” still carries some weight with Cody, or I would have had to tell him the truth. That his precious little bouncing ball is now hundreds of little balls in the neighbours garden.

I have decided to postpone archery lessons for a few more years.

Take care and laugh a little

Blaim It on The Dogs.

Farting is a much loved and respected tradition in our family, going back generations. My dad, fore instance,was Provincial Champion 7 years running and could fart the Danish National Anthem in D-minor.

This talent sometimes skips a generation, and being the lady that I am,I never fart.Fortunately Sean's genetic superiority in that department, has obviously produced some very gifted children.Cody ,we think, may be savant.

Even though Cody is showing serious talent, he is still an amateur. Signs of beginners denial are beginning to show. A couple of nights ago, after a hefty helping of cauliflower, he let rip a particularly impressive one. Now being the progressive parents we are, we believe in praising our children loud and often.So Sean was there with the "Nice one, Codes." To which Cody,without missing a beat, calmly said: " It wasn't me, it was the Dog". Kira ,with her acute observational skills,reminded us that we don't have a dog

As it turns out, we have had a lot of dogs around the house lately.
This morning it was Sean's turn to channel the phantom pooches. Cody, looking quite amused, and checking out the offending area, announces: "Who let the dogs out?"

It is my deepest wish, as a proud mother, that my son, one day, will acknowledge his legacy and follow in his forefathers footsteps.We had hoped that he could fart the South African National Anthem at the opening ceremony of the up coming World Cup.But alas,with only a month left till the big event, he has only mastered two of the three languages needed.

Take care and laugh a little.

Look out! Animal farm, here we come!

Being the progressive parents we are, we decided our Sunday outing, should be the ANIMAL FARM. No we have not lost it. Bravery is bound to get rewarded, sooner or later.

At the good news, Cody got so excited; he hurled himself down the stairs, to wait by the car. To his utter dismay, we had to call him back. “ Cody, you can’t arrive at the Flag Farm in you undies, you’ll scare the bunny’s.” Luckily, like most mothers, I have become adequately deft, at dressing a child on the move.
Kira, being 10 and almost a grownup was not impressed. “Mom, do you know how uncool it is to be seen at the animal farm at my age and anyway it makes me sneeze.”
Bribery always works well with kids, so she decided, reluctantly, to tag along.

After a fairly uneventful drive, we finally arrived at our much anticipated venue.
It being a public holiday, we were not alone. About 1.5 million other families had the same brilliant idea.

Now, Cody being autistic tends to have some issues with social networking, but is quite capable of pushing himself through a crowd of thousands to toss his oats at various farm animals.

It was quite evident though, that his heart was not in it. Not even his favorite lunch, pie, gravy and chips seemed to satisfy him. We soon discovered why. At the entrance he had spotted it. THE JUMPING CASTLE. My overprotecting motherly instincts went in to overdrive: What if Cody ended up at the bottom, with 70 kids jumping on his head. What if, what if, what if…… Silly, silly me. Cody was the one doing the jumping, and pushing the kids down the slide. “I’m helping the kids, mommy” he would yell. For 2 hours there was sliding, jumping and deep conversations with a boy in a spider man suit.

Eventually it was time to go. A tired, but satisfied boy managed to drag himself to the car, where the “obvious” question was, “So, Cody what did you like the most?” After couple of seconds silence came the answer. “The Horse.”

Take care and laugh a little.

A car in the foot is worth two in the toy box

Today started with Cody coming through to the lounge and telling me "You are not well".
After me reminding him that everyone has known this for a long time,the day took on the familiar routine of me wrestling the remote from him(cause I am bigger and I can),and him moaning about every program I want to watch.After a few hours of discussion on witch program is better,Discovery or Disney,we took the truck to the dump to get rid of Ninas latest discards from our ever diminishing garden.This trip, as Cody constantly reminds me "is for boys and not girls".

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful ........until shopping time .As Nina and I stood at the door waiting for Cody, the unmistakable sound of a limping child echoed down the hallway.The,"What has he done now",look was evident on both our faces.As Cody rounded the corner, the broken toe,foot or leg images that had filled our heads gave way to more of a "what on earth are you doing" scenario.Between Codys toes was a small red Ferrari.Being a McLaren fan ,I thought this an appropriate place for a car from the Italian Team.

Much to everyone's amusement the red F1 car stayed between the toes of our limping child during the whole shopping trip.He dutifully dragged his car adorned foot up and down every isle till he could take the cramp no longer.He then asked for help,which made us sigh in relief.At least now we could finish the shopping at a reasonable pace.BUT , no such luck,all he wanted help with was placing it between the toes on his other foot.All we could do was be thankful it wasn't his cricket bat.

All in all a gr8 day for Formula 1 and Charles Darwin,who's theories of evolution were played out in the canned goods isle of our local supermarket.

Take care and laugh a little.

This is us.

Our wonderfully autistic son referred to in the blog title text is, as he never fails to remind us when we try play make believe games, not a lion or David Beckham but a 7 years old boy called Cody. Besides Cody there is our 10 year old daughter Kira,who while not autistic is most definitely blonde.That leaves us,Nina and Sean,or as we are referred to by the kids,The Big Booby Lady and The dude with the car keys.

Between the two of us we will try and share a bit of the fun,tears,elation and downright wacky times Cody brings to the most mundane of daily routines.Just a boring trip to the supermarket can turn into a Monty Python sketch that plays itself out somewhere between the frozen veggies and the "el cheepo" 5lt box wine section.Much to the amusement of the other shoppers,one of whom tried to book us for a 6 week run at the local theater.Unfortunately my wife and I were only offered minor billing to Codys headline, so, due to my numerous insecurities, was forced to turn down the offer.

We hope many of you will follow our blog and leave comments,which we will chat about in the coarse of writing the blog.Comments along the lines of "what a handsome father" will be dealt with first.Time for some sleep now,before we begin the assault on tomorrow.

Take care and laugh a little.