"Mom, mom, what's sab?
"A what?
"A sab?"
"I don't know. Where did you hear it?"
"On TV . . . you know, you know, a sab," she said, urgently.
"I don't know, honey."
"You know, like S-A-B, SAB," she spelled it urgently.
"Sab? I really don't know. Can you tell me the sentence it was in?"
"Never mind," she said, and walked off, clearly disappointed, as was I, to have not been able to explain what a sab was.
Later Sweet M was in the bathtub, and I'd wandered into the bathroom to check on her.
"Mom, you gotta tell me. What's a sab?"
"Gosh, I don't know, honey? You heard in on TV?"
"Yeah."
"On what show did you hear it?"
"On Grossology! It's new. It's great. It's about gross stuff!" she said with the age-appropriate enthusiasm for the gross.
Now I had a clue."Can you tell me a little more about the sab? Where was it?"
"Oh, it was on the skin," she rubbed her arm. "They got a scrape. And then a sab."
Some people have a-ha moments. I think this was an a-duh moment.
"Oh, a scab!"
I felt pretty silly to not have figured it out before, but there you go. A-duh for mom.
But what is also interesting is that we are so unphysically active in our city life that Sweet M hasn't had a scab since she learned to talk. No bike riding like Charlie, over at Autismland. No ski lessons like Bud. No skateboarding or roughhousing. No scabs. I have to do something that gets us all moving, even if we wind up with something gross like a scab.
7 comments:
Oh we have so many of those these days - unknown words. [as well as scabs] I wish you more of the former and less of the latter as then you might have to endure the Band aid nightmare!
Cheers
McEwen, Thanks for the good wishes on that . . . M is funny in that Bandaids aren't a nightmare for her. . . Her Bandaid fetish was the topic of a post a little over a year ago . . .
Bethduckie, I know what you mean . . . We used to have a little public playground across the street from us, but it's been under "renovation" for nearly a year, and now they say it will be done in September . . . Another summer without outdoor space.
I think you are so correct about the economic dimension of autism parenting not being explored in the parenting literature and memoirs . . . in part because just having the time and energy to write assumes a certain level of leisure. I'm lucky to have some time to do this, but I have it in part because we don't live in a suburban or rural area and have kept our housing and other costs low. Public transport means no need for car, car insurance, paid pariking, etc. and we've stayed in an apartment that we've long ago outgrown because we have rent stabilization. (For those outside NY, rent stabilization is a rent control law that protects tenants from unreasonable rent increases and therefore, when it works, ensures that cities are not only for the superrich.)
If you'd like to read a book about an autistic person growing up in tight places with equally tight economic circumstances, check out the book by Daniel Tammet called Born on Blue Day . . . that was one of the many things I loved about Tammet's book.
We are scab central, as well as repeated impossible question central. It's hard to know whether you are aiming at ersatz skin, swedish cars, or egyptian bugs sometimes.
We lack pots of money, and currently live in a nasty apartment. Such is life. But we do have a park to go to, and we go and play at granny's house with her dogs and acres of yard. But it is, truly, the brothers that result in scabs around our house. I was under the impression that was what brothers were for.
I'm glad my son doesn't get many of those... He can't stand scabs and always tries to pick and yank them off. Oh, and he won't tolerate band-aids either!
Now I remember one time when I was little, and I complained to my Dad that the scab on my arm was grossing me out. Daddy said that scabs were great, because it meant I was healed and alive.
go out there and get some sabs! we promise to do the same though we're not HUGE on outdoor activity in this spectrum household. ahem. but i hear this is the perfect time for it. in fact, i think it's sab season!
off the subject, i have a question for you but i can't find your email....
Sab season ahead! I know, I know, it is so hard to be physically active if you didn't get the sports gene . . . I could just lull about all the while.
I so totally admire Kristina and Jim and MOM & DAD-NOS for getting out there and doing stuff. I mean 10 mile bike rides. My god. What a concept. My knees hurt just thinkin' about it!
But over here at Autism's Edges we have to figure out some sort of movement method because we're all getting lumpy, as your cellulite post reminds us!
And Leila, ouch!, pulling off sabs is so ouchy! I don't think Sweet M would do that . . . she's too into her bandaid fetish . . .
Happy sab season to all. . .
Charlie does not let, ahem, healing sabs lie, nor will he put up with a band-aid (and summer is the big season for sabs with a boy in shorts and lots of time outside and then swimming is a problem----ah the woes of an active boy's mother!). (Fortunately we are past the Wiggles/Barney band-aid stage-----)
BTW, a good friend of mine will be present on April 19th!
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