My next guest biatch is Sharon
Everyone has their own way of saying things are not all rainbow cupcake glitter farts in their world. It’s another great opportunity to express oneself in a characteristic way. I used to whine or cry at my mean and horrible parents then stomp outside to bitch to my dog about my mean and horrible parents. With Mr12 it’s always been ear-splitting vocals or whines, often with a good dramatic throwing of oneself down to the ground for effect. Often times due to ASD, others just plain Oscar-worthy.
When I met my husband-to-be, his sister’s two boys were respectively nine and four years old. The nine year old was Mr Quiet, so his little brother’s arrival was somewhat of a shock to his family because he came out swinging left and right hooks from day one. I felt bad for the little guy because something was clearly upsetting him. But before anyone could officially find out, he’d discovered a satisfying outlet for his frustrations- inflicting pain. To men. With a fist to their crotchal region. It is unclear how he settled upon this particular expression of frustration- or why women got off scot free- but it became his signature move. So if you saw that brow start to furrow, fellas…it was best you grabbed your walnuts before he did.
Zoom forward seventeen years and we have a five year old daughter, our Princess of Joy and Pain. Over the last year or so, we’ve been horrified to witness her own emerging variation on a theme. Squirrel grips were soon replaced by a swift jab or knee action. Nut-Ninja style. No one taught her this and we have no idea whatsoever how she discovered it. So naturally my first (and most mature) response to this disturbing development was to point a deflecting finger of blame directly at her dad:
“IT’S GENETIC! THE SQUIRREL GENE COMES FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE FAMILY!!”
Our poor son’s been floored so many times now we don’t know what to do with his sister any more. She’s landed him at the doctor’s twice, once for an ultrasound. She’s been sat down and calmly had it explained to her it’s not ok. She’s been repeatedly punished, yelled at and seen us fly into rage over it while her victim hops about with both hands on his Winter stores. In all seriousness I truly am angry about this habit and concerned about future dangers to my boy’s health- there’s no humour there.
But she’s promised never to do it again, ever, and assures us this time she understands the gravity of the situation…then she does it again. It must be too empowering (and perversely clever) to have worked out how to fell a far larger opponent with relative ease.
The good news is that my nephew is now a twenty-one year old top grade student, studying psychology. So perhaps I should bring this full circle and ask him for advice? I wonder what he’d say about this deviant behaviour? If I know him, he’ll probably say “look forward to a top grade student”. Meantime, I’m buying a straight-jacket and a cricket cup.