Cheryl, a fellow autism mom, explains how sleeping in on the weekends is a near impossibility at her house, with two very quizzical young boys. Moms of Chatty Charlies (and Cathies), can you relate?
My Saturday morning wakeup routine
Me (still clinging to the hope that the alarm won’t go off for Saturday morning swimming lessons; yes, yes, I know, but it was the only time slot available) gets woken up as follows by son #1:
Dylan: “Where’s Dad?” (Great question to learn D, but time for a new one now.)
Me: “On the moon.” (Really tired of answering the same question every week, so I went for random.)
Dylan: “Where’s Dad?” (Obviously doesn’t believe me at this point.)
Me: “Jupiter.” (Still trying to by the wise guy.)
Dylan: “Spaceships can’t land on Jupiter.” (Good point D, and even if they could, we don’t have the gazillion dollars to pay for such an out of this world experience.)
Dylan: “Has Dad gone fishing? (Obviously tired of my antics at this point, and decides I need some more specific prompting.)
Son #2 gets out of bed, or to be more precise, I go drag his sorry ass out of bed so that we can get to swimming.
Brandon: “Where’s Dad?”
Me: “On the moon.”
Brandon: “Where’s Dad?” (I guess he didn’t like my answer either, so he pretended that I didn’t hear him the first time.)
Brandon: “2 minutes speech on Jupiter and why you can’t live there/too far away etc. etc. etc.”
Brandon: “Dad must be fishing.”
Obviously I have failed at this point as a wife and mother, as I have no idea where his Dad is.
Repeat next week; maybe I will throw in some new destinations.