My lovely
young man, as those of you who know him personally can attest, has that delightful
Aspie predilection for the Truth. Said Truth will be announced at full volume
regardless of time and place, and definitely, with true Apsie disregard for
tact or diplomacy.
So, yes, he
did go up to the actors at the end of our local Amateur Dramatics production
and say, “You weren’t very good, where you? The prompt said most of your lines.”
And he did tell the neighbour that our cat had killed his Guinea pigs at our
Christmas drinks party. And when I asked his opinion of my outfit for a friend’s
wedding he did say, “It’s a bit much.”
So last weekend,
Hubs asks him if he’d like to go to a Burlesque evening. “Hell, yeah!” came the
response. (Very generous offer of Hubs who was to be out of the county that
weekend). I, of course, am trying to be supportive and discreet. I anticipate
that it wouldn’t be cool to be with Mum, so I’m thinking I can be a steward at
the event as it’s in the Arts Centre where I volunteer. Yeah, right: we both
went to the Burlesque. Now, if you haven’t been to a show, basically it is a
series of acts: each woman delivers a ‘scene’ or a dance, each losing their
clothing item by item, from glove to stocking to corset, to end up in panties
and nipple tassles. Some women are bigger than others (in all departments),
some are energetic, some are elegant, some can twirl bits you cannot twirl
yourself. It is kitsch.
Well, I was
terrified –imagining all the possible inappropriate comments that I might have
to field.
I was wrong.
He simply
decided to take it all at face value, commenting positively on their outfits
(loved Jessica Rabbit), their dancing, and their quirky humour. He appreciated the
fan dances and explosions of glitter, and clapped enthusiastically at the end
of each piece. It was a joy to be out with him.
Now,
yesterday, he had an invitation to attend a drama student production called Dr
Who Through Time. He is no stranger to drama and theatre (well, he is mine),
and is a huge Dr Who fan (for fan, read Aspie obsession).
As we
arrived to buy our tickets, I noticed the students getting ready and thought,
hmm, this could get interesting. These were the Foundation students, with a
wide range of special needs, physical disabilities and learning disabilities.
The costumes were hand-made, low-spec, teachers hovered to prompt in every
corner, and Dr Who was a girl!
An Aspie
nightmare. So, yes, I’m mentally strategizing all the possible damage control I’m
going to have to manoeuvre.
And blow me
if he didn’t do it again. He complimented the effort that went into the
costumes, loved that one of the Daleks was a bloke in a wheelchair, laughed at
their jokes, and added a few himself. “So that’s what happened to Elvis, the Daleks
have him!”
He was Mr
Compassion and Generosity. I could not have been more proud.
We can get
so caught up meeting the challenges of our children’s disadvantages that we
sometimes forget to see the personality beside/behind the ‘condition’. It’s so
lovely when we see them shine way beyond it and prove the world wrong.
