Put another way, you sometimes find yourself saying things as a parent and then asking “Where did that come from?” Sometimes the answer is obvious: you’re turning into your parents. Other times, who knows? I had one of those moments with a autistic twist the other day.
I was picking the boy up from his “Adventures in Science” after school activity. He picked up his backpack and we headed down the hall.
“I like this backpack,” he said, shrugging it onto his shoulders, "thanks for getting it for me.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, taking the credit on behalf of Mrs ’Struction, who actually picked it out. "I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s really comfortable, and it makes it easy to find my stuff.”
At this point he looked a bit puzzled and contemplative. “Did you know,” he started, “that some people pick their backpacks because they think it looks cool, and don’t even care if its not comfortable, or if all their stuff won’t fit in it?”
“I DID know that,” I replied sagely. “We call those people neurotypicals.”
Now where did that come from? Oh well. He’s going to have to deal with a lot of NT’s in his life, so he might as well start learning about their quirks now. He’s already growing up in a circle of friends that includes muslims, jews, christians and pagans; and a near complete set of the races we can expect to encounter is 21st century melting pot, so I guess it’s never to early to start learning about neurodiversity as well.