A little time with Ethan

Jake’s been taking center stage in the blog for a while now (what with the autism and all), and Ethan wants me to remind you folks that he exists, too.

So here are a few more snippets of life with Ethan. Enjoy him. (I do.)

Ethan, Summer 2011

The other night Ethan complained to me "My life is boring right now."

"What? Why?" I asked, slightly stunned, what with the fun camp and many friends and all.

"Well, there's nothing going on in my life. I kind of like Gogos, but not THAT much... There’s nothing I'm REALLY into right now”

Ahhhh, I see, life without an overriding obsession feels… different... lesser.

I suggested to him that maybe it was time to take up a real life hobby that could grow with him - like a musical instrument, instead of him outgrowing - like all his Japanimation toy obsessions: Power Rangers, Bakugan, Pokemon, Beyblades… and now Gogos Crazy Bones…

"No, Mom, I just need a new THING to be into."

Well, at least it's not girls. Yet.

(Also, just so you know, this conversation took place, of course, while he was on the toilet, just before bedtime. Once a bathroom conversationalist, always a bathroom conversationalist.)

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At bedtime the other night Ethan got the giggles -- this is, unfortunately, a not uncommon occurrence. He gets these funny ideas, and well, they make him laugh. Not the most conducive to sleep, now, is that? 

Ethan. My budding insomniac night owl child.  (Sigh.)

So, this time the “funny thought” ran along the lines of “wouldn’t it be soooo funny to have a boy and name him Muriel? Or Betsy, or Isabel.” Somehow naming of the inappropriate variety is a big theme for Ethan, and a frequent source of mirth.  (As all gender reversals are, too, come to think of it.)

He was going on and on, suggesting girlier and girlier names as possible candidates for “Worst. Boy. Name. Ever.” I was trying to put the kibosh on this, to shush him up, both to help him calm down enough to sleep and so as not to wake Jacob with his chortling.

But then I couldn’t help myself.

“Well, you know there’s that famous song about A Boy Named Sue…”

Ethan didn’t. He wanted to know all about it.

I told him a tiny bit about Johnny Cash and the song; just a tease, really, enough to intrigue him. And then I told him I would find it on You Tube for him the next day and play it for him ONLY if he quieted down and went to sleep right away.

It worked.

The next day, when he came home from camp, I had it all cued up, waiting for him, keeping my word. I played it; we got to the end.

And his reaction?

"That’s just WEIRD, mom."

And then the thousand questions, about the song... "Why did he leave his family... and why does he want his son to be a fighter... and why did he want to kill his Dad... and why would ANYBODY name a boy Sue and... ?"

And the singer... "Why is he the man in black... and why is he playing in a prison... and why is his voice so low and... ?"

And a part of me wanted to say "It's just a song, Ethan."

Except it isn't. It's a part of our heritage now, our mythic landscape.

And Johnny is one of the Great Beings who have walked among us (although of course he was also just a man; someone's son, father, husband, brother, grandfather).

And you know who wrote it, right?

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Last night I attempted to explain the mechanics of humor to Ethan. All about how to tell a joke and what makes a joke funny or not. Not easy stuff to quantify.

It started with a discussion of swimming at camp, he talked about learning the backstroke, which led to my telling him that old chestnut of a joke from the classic lexicon:

"Waiter what’s this fly doing in my soup?"

“The backstroke, sir.”

(cue rimshot)

He then wanted to hear more waiter jokes – so I told him the “Who wanted the clean glass?” joke and then started in on other “classic” jokes, like the “... walks into a bar" formulation.

Silly me, after much pleading I finally told him my favorite walks-into-a-bar joke. Which, unfortunately involves a certain knowledge of existential philosophy. It begins "Descartes walks into a bar..."*

Have you ever tried explaining existentialism to a nearly 9 year old?  (Yeah, me neither.)

And then we ended up talking about how certain variations on the chicken-crossing-the-road are funny and some are not.  And why.

When I said “and then, when you deliver the punch line, you have to drop it in just right”? He thought that was hysterical.

He had never heard the term and got very distracted and entertained by the idea of ACTUALLY punching someone while telling a joke.

Sigh.

I guess he is still a not-yet-quite-nine year-old boy after all.

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And those are all the tales of Ethan I have to tell... today.

You know there will be more soon.

Because Ethan keeps being Ethan.

And that?

Is entertainment.


*Oh, you want to hear the Descartes joke? Really? OK. It's short, sweet, a little absurd, definitely goofy (and I love it):

Descartes walks into a bar.

Pulls up a stool, sits down.

He starts chatting with the other folks at the bar.

The bartender is getting impatient, asks him: "So, buddy, are you going to order a drink?"

Descartes answers: "I think not."

And promptly disappears.

(cue rimshot)


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The Conversationalist

Ethan, himself

The other night, Ethan was all wonderful and full of surprises.

Early in the evening we were looking for a book for him to read as he had finished “The Strange Case of the Origami Yoda” and was ready to move on.

We have about a thousand books in our apartment, but he tends to reject a lot of books out of hand, as either "boring" or "too scary to read at night."  So it is often tough to come up with something he is willing to read, if it’s not a Pokemon Adventure book, that is.

I spotted a book I had bought some time ago thinking it might be helpful to him, but he had shunned it for years. It’s a story written by a (then) 8 year old girl about her autistic brother, called “All About My Brother.”

I handed it to him with a casual “How about this one?" fully expecting scathing rejection. It had pictures and was written by a GIRL (cooties!) but he said "cool" and took it.  And readers, he read it!

And afterward he said "Mom, maybe we should write a book together about Jake."

You could have blown me over with a feather.  Lately his statements about Jacob usually begin with "Do you know why Jacob is the most annoying brother in the world, and why I hate him?"

I recovered quickly “Sure, Ethan I would really like that." And felt more than a little glowy for a while.

A little later that same evening, we had this conversation, out of the blue:

E: "Mom? Maybe I’ll get married in my 20’s"

Me: (not sure where this is coming from or leading to) "Umm, OK."

E: "My late 20’s."

Me: "Um, OK."

E: "Then I can have kids in my early 30’s and you’ll still be young enough to help take care of them."

Me: (oh, a plan) "…OK."

E: "Like when I’m 30 you’ll be (brow furrowed in mathly concentration)… 72.  That’s not too old, right?"

Me: "No, not at all."

E: "You’ll still be alive then right?  Promise?"
(Oh how I wish I could make that promise, but I’m a realist)

Me: "I would certainly hope so honey, I plan on it.  I want to be.  I really would love to be a Grandma to your kids.  But you know I can’t promise these kinds of things, right?"

E: "Yeah...  (pause)  Can I have a cookie?"

With all the Grandparents dying lately death must be on his mind.  I forget how with boys just because they're not talking about it doesn't mean it's not sitting there under the surface, hot lava bubbling away.

Later still, he started up a conversation again.

E: “Mom, what’s your favorite flower?”
(Ethan is all about the icebreaker question that comes out of nowhere.)

Me: "Well, I love all flowers so much, so I don’t have just one. But I do love hydrangeas, especially the blue-violet ones, you know that, I’m always pointing them out to you. And peonies, because they smell so lovely.  Also lilacs, definitely lilacs."

E: "How about carnations?"

Me: "They can be pretty, but they're not my favorite."

E: "I like carnations."

Me: "That's fine, we don't have to like the same things.  But Ethan, later on, when you're grown up and you like a girl?  Don't buy her carnations, they're cheap, you'll never impress her that way."
(I'm all full of useful, womanly advice)

E: "How about Daisies? Oh, wait, Daisy is a girl’s name."

Me: "That's true. There are lots of flower names that are girl’s names. Daisy... Lily... Rose... Iris... Heather... Violet..."

E: "Hey that’s a color!"

Me: "But also a flower."

E: "Did they name the color for the flower or the flower for the color?"

Me: "Good question. I would guess the flower was probably named for the color, but it could be the other way around."

E: "What about emerald?"

Me: "You mean the green color?  That's a color named for a gemstone, not a flower."

E: "But is it a name?"

Me: "No.  Well, yes.  It's not really used in English for a name, but in Spanish emerald is Esmeralda and that IS a girl's name"  (I should really shut up now, but I don't, I'm on a roll.)  "There are also lots of girls named for gemstones and jewels: Pearl... Ruby... Opal... Amber..."

E: "Oh! I know amber, there’s an amber Pokemon, it's the amber fossil Pokemon!"
(I love his frames of reference… it always all boils down to Japanimation)

Me: "OK, I didn't know that."
(I think I'm ready to end this conversation now. Bedtime rapidly approaches...)

E: "So what should I name my kids?" (Um, is there something I need to know here?) "How about Daisy and Amber for the girls?"

Me: "Why not?"

E: "Can I name my daughter Venus-Fly-Trap?"

Me: "Um I don’t think that’s a great idea, honey."

E: "Why not, it’s a flower?"

Me: "Well, it’s not a flower, really, more like a carnivorous plant.  Just plain Venus would be better, that’s a Goddess." (Because goodness knows we don't want to give his hypothetical children weird names.)

E: "But it’s a planet."

Me: "That’s right, and the planet is named for the Goddess, the Roman name for the Goddess of love and beauty, whose Greek name is Aphrodite." (Because TMI is my MO.)

E: "What about Jupiter? Boy or Girl?"

Me: "Jupiter is a boy, he's the king of the gods."

E: "I thought that was Zeus!"

Me: "The name Jupiter is Roman, that’s the same God as Zeus to the Greeks.  The Greeks created the pantheon of the Gods and the Romans borrowed them and changed their names." (Someone stop me, please, it's getting late.)

E: "How about Mars?"

Me: "Boy"

E: "Neptune?"

Me: "Boy again, God of the ocean."

E: "I thought that was Poseidon."

Me: "Roman / Greek thing again, honey."

E: "Mercury?  Hey, I know a Mercury!"

Me: "Look, except for Venus, they're all boys, OK?"

E: "That's not fair!"

Me: "I know, probably some ancient boys did the naming, what can I say?"

E: "Well, what about Earth - girl or boy? Can you name a kid Earth?"

Me: "Well, I don’t really know where name came from," (What, me admitting to not knowing something?) "but we always call the planet she, and there's this concept of Mother Earth, so I would say girl. But it's not a name."

(Oops, I had forgotten all about Eartha Kitt. Sorry, Eartha!)

E: "OK, for girls: Venus and Emerald, for the boys: Mohawk and John.  And maybe Uncle."

Me: "Um, honey, how many kids are you planning to have?" (Not that I don’t want to be a Grandma & all…)

E: "Is Rocky a boy or girl name? Can it be a girl’s name as well as a boys’s name? Because that would be awesome. I want to name my girl Rocky."

Me: "Sure" (I'm starting the "just say yes" phase of the evening)

E: "So how’s this: Speed, Lightning… and Jewel"
(He's not even waiting for my answers now, he's on fire, he's on a roll...)

E: "Oh, I know, the boys: Houdini and Marvin" 
(Where does he GET this stuff?)

E: "Wait, what about middle names?  Flame Daisy for the girl, and Lightning Hank for the boy.  That way they each have one cool name and one normal name and they can decide what they want to be called."

Me: "Good thinking honey, you’re really planning ahead. But, um, don’t you think you need to grow up and go off to college and meet a woman and date her and get married before you start planning on naming your kids?  And then she is going to want some input into this process, too, you know."

E: "Uh, Huh.  How about Jupiter and Pegasus?"

Then it started getting really silly:

E: "Count Dracula?"  (Giggling.)

E: "Hand-cuffs & Underpants!"  (Much Giggling.)

But in the end, he was all sensible about some things.

E: “I know what NOT to name my kid: Evil.  That would be a bad idea.”

(Yes, dear, you are all wise like that.)

Me: "You're right, very bad idea. And now, BEDTIME!  For reals."

And finally you should know that while the earlier conversations took place in the living room, this last one took place in the bathroom, Ethan on the toilet, me perched on the tub next to the sink at the far end, thumbing through a Mimi-Boden catalog (and then frantically writing notes all over the catalog white spaces so I could quote him verbatim as everything he said got funnier and funnier).

Because sometimes it’s spooky in our low-lit bathroom at night and he needs a bit of company.

Because while I like to read on toilet, he prefers to talk.

My son is a conversationalist. 

A bathroom conversationalist. 

I pity his future wife. 

And his future children, my grandchildren: Houdini, Uncle and Venus-Fly-Trap.


(Very long) P.S. on why this post is not like the others and giving credit where credit is due:
I am trying something new with this post.  I am trying to be flat-out funny.  For a long time I have wanted to “lighten up” things around here at The Squashed Bologna.  But it’s been kind of hard to do that, what with all the dying going on.  And then there’s Jake’s autism popping up around every corner.  But since my mother has promised to try to stick around until the boys bar mitzvahs, and with things going well at school for Jake right now, I thought it might be safe to attempt a humor piece.  Well, me being me, I had to stick in some autism and a little death stuff.  But still, for me?  We’re in fluffernutter range here.

And what made me think I could do this, what gave me the courage to step out of my comfort zone? My inspiration totally comes from two of my favorite bloggers, my blogging heroes:  Kris of “Pretty All True” and Adrienne of “No Points for Style.”

These women are writers.  Their blogs have a genuine voice.  And they both are not afraid of deep emotion and fierce thought.  They to go where their hearts, minds and souls take them.  And they are hysterically funny and totally irreverent when they chose to be, which is often.  One post will rip your heart to shreds and the next will have you peeing in your pants in hysterics.  And their willingness to go from one to the other, and of their readers to journey with them from tears to laughter made me think of the possibility: “Why not me, too?”

Kris & Adrienne are often at their funniest when they are “reporting” conversations with their husbands and kids, which is why when Ethan stared down this road the other night I immediately flashed on the idea of turning our conversation into a blog post.

So thank you, ladies, for being my bloggy mentors.  Unless this post totally fails and falls flat on its face.  Then of course, I don’t know you and you don't know me.  Wink, wink.


P.P.S. Disclosure: I have linked to the books mentioned in this post, and I am an Amazon Associate. So if you follow my book links to Amazon and buy them I get a few cents. (Yeah, I hate his politics, but B&N doesn't have this program, and I could use the few cents.)