Zit-ra, otherwise known as she who has blemishes

I have a zit.

Two of them actually and those bad boys are NOT going anywhere.  Now blemishes are typically not life-stopping events but when someone in your family has autism ... it CAN put a kink in your day.

We had a 2-hour delay for school today.  So I opted to go all out for breakfast.  We had eggs, sausage ... and hey, I even made cinnamon toast.  So naturally I was hoping we might have a leisurely breakfast (and this is where you say, "hope all you want sistah cause it ain't happening.")  Youngest was running around like his feet were on fire, singing "delays are good, delays are kind" and Little Dude was just staring at me.

Or more specifically, my zit.

"You have a bump.  Is that just extra skin cells or what exactly is going on in there?"

and then the worst comment of all,

"Are there germs in there?"

OK, those of you, reading are probably saying, "What? Why is THAT the worst comment?"  It is because Little Dude is a germ-a-phobe.  This is usually where I launch into a gigantic medical explaination (that I've Googled as soon as the subject of germs comes up) of what IS a (fill in the germ-filled item) and how it won't hurt him.

Today.  (sigh) Today I was cranky so I touched my zit and then rubbed his head shouting "Ooooh, germy, germs germs."  In other words, the mature route.

He stared at me for a moment ... and then giggled.

Maybe he's growing up.
Not so much me tho.

That's No Moon, It's a Space Station

I just had a "discussion" with my son.  OK, I'm going to admit it  (to borrow a phrase from Rants from Mommyland) I lost my schmitt.  There MAY have been a bit of crankiness involved.

Here's where the frustration arose, Little Dude has the tendency to ask me the same questions over and over (and OVER) again.  He will finish his food and I will tell him to put his dishes by the sink.  "In the sink or by the sink?" he will ask.  "How many jellybeans can I have as a treat?" or "Do I need to brush my teeth?" or "Where should I put my shoes?"  The list goes on.

Tonight, I lost it.  I felt like he wasn't listening.

He ran to his room crying. 

When I finally got him to talk to me, he explained.  "I ask questions because I want to be absolutely certain what you want.  When you are piloting a ship to the moon, you need to make sure that your calculations are correct or you will slingshot into the moon or hit another spaceship."

That stopped me.

Aside from thinking that we watch WAAAAAAAY too much science fiction television and being amazed that he is only ten; he's right.  I'd rather have Little Dude be my pilot, any day, any time.

I've always been annoyed by the need of both my "boys" to be right.   It never occurred to me that his annoying need to check and recheck information wasn't a weakness in him, but just the way his brain works.  It will probably serve him well in his job as an adult.

I'm just going to have dig deep (really REALLY deep) into the stores of my patience.  Because for Little Dude, it IS Rocket Science.