"Exact Words Greg!"

Life with the kiddo isn't exactly an episode of The Brady Bunch.  I'm not rocking a perfect flip in my hair.  I thank the good Lord each day that there not six of the kiddo running around an astro turf back yard.  My husband has yet to take me on a business trip with him to Hawaii and one look around my house will show you pretty quickly that there is no Alice, the maid.  This morning though, I was pretty sure my son had turned into a Brady.  Let me explain.

Yesterday the kiddo came home from school and does his usual routine of emptying out his backpack and handing all items over to me.  Included in this exchange was part of a PTA fund raising order that had come in.  It's pretty clear to me that this is not my entire order and it's kind of odd to only get part of it without some sort of note or email blast going out explaining what's up.  The kiddo's PTA is pretty good that way.  So I jot off an email to our Madame President with a "where's my stuff?" whine.  She then forwards it to another mom with her own "where's her stuff?" to boot.  I add another email to both ladies with a "Dudes, I ordered  A LOT of stuff.  Christmas presents!  Come on!!"  Yeah, I'll fess up.  I started my shopping way early this year and actually felt like I had my shit together.  To find out that about 8 items were MIA sent me into a tizz.

Cut to the scene this morning and the school bus rolling on up.  The kiddo starts to hop on but the aide inside stops him.  She comes down the steps with a bag that appears to be the rest of my order.   Apparently, he left it on the bus.  I thanked her and the driver but did look at the kiddo and said "Buddy? What the heck?  You're suppose to give this to me.  You know that."

Kiddo points at it and says; "Not in the backpack." and it dawns on me.  Why did I get the first part of that order?  Cause it fit in his backpack.  Why did this not come home?  Because it was NOT in his backpack.  Ergo, not his responsibility to move heaven and earth to give it to me.  He and his literal thinking, his autism way, had found his loophole. How could I possibly complain as he did indeed hand over to me the contents of what is in his backpack? He did his job.  With that he high fived the bus driver and went off to school, having owned his mother once again by 8:40AM.

"Exact words Greg!" All I could think of was this old episode.  How Greg thought he had completely outsmarted his parents. This autism way is exact words all the freaking time.  To the point of where sometimes it saves me but most of the time, it saves him.  When things are clearly stated, everybody is happier for it.  There was a part of me that just wants to have my "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia" moment and just rage against the Brady Status Quo but it is what it is.  So tonight I will sit down again with the boy and explain that ALL things handed over at school need to come home, regardless of if they are in his backpack or have to be carried in another bag.  I'm sure there will also be a long debate over the color, size and shape of said additional bag.  That no, I will not always be able to predict on which days such things shall occur.

Pardon me Madame President as I may never order anything again. Will this be an issue?  Were you trying to get Davy Jones to sing at the prom?  Oh wait, he passed away.  Never mind. 

Oh autism, exact words to be etched in stone but that stone better be in the backpack.