June 25, 2012 by The Domestic Goddess
One fun thing about our brand of autism? Echolalia. Repeating things over and over. And over. And over again. And again…
Whether they say it or they play it, after forty times (give or take thirty-nine) I’m kinda done with it.
Case in point? We listen to/watch Thomas and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom several times a day, on average. While I don’t mind that Bugaboo loves those particular videos, I also know he is perseverating on them. And you can thank my sister-in-law for giving Bug Boy the Chicka Chicka video for his birthday (THANKS.A. BILLION). The original one was scratched and ruined a year after we got it, but thanks to the magic of the Internets, we were able to find a replacement in no time.
Now we’re on our eleventh copy.
Yes, they’ve watched it that often over the past eleven years (Yes, I’m aware I could burn it to a new copy).
Bug Boy no longer watches those videos (he has now joined the Greek Chorus in, “GROAN. AGAIN, BUGABOO?”) but he still perseverates on certain things. When finds a show he enjoys, he DVRs every blessed episode. We’ll often turn on the DVR to look for something we’ve recorded and the DVR is at capacity. Full of every episode of Tom and Jerry or Pokemon imaginable. Currently it’s those science-type shows about how things are made. He wants to be “an engineer” when he grows up. Like mechanical or electrical, not like the guy who drives a train. Although when he was five that would have appealed to him, right along with “professional skateboarder” even though he’s never actually been on a skateboard. Minor detail!
Lately, thanks to that extraordinary human phenomenon known as puberty, Bug Boy has taken an interest in all things teenagery. Yes, it’s a word. I made it up myself! Anywho, he’s now more interested in his iPod than the house burning down around him. Which means he has made himself a little song list and whatnot.
For example, we had a party a few weeks ago for the entire fifth grade at the local swim club. I wanted provide music for their listening pleasure but there is no sound system so I brought Bug Boy’s iPod and the speaker set. Bug Boy has every Weird Al song known to man, in addition to Transiberian Orchestra, Queen, Styx and the Beatles. And Michael Jackson.
Yep. Quite a mix.
Lately, he’s added a few more to his lineup. Like The Final Countdown (Best song ever, MOM! WOO!). Ever hear that song? It’s so special:
The very epitome of enjoyable entertainment, yes?
The other night Bugaboo dozed off and went to bed so I was hurriedly folding a few
mountains loads of laundry, beings I don’t want to sleep on top of them and stuff. Bug Boy had spent the day in his room with friends creating random Lego creations and listening to music. The friends had scattered hours before but Bug Boy was still at it, putting together “contraptions (as he calls them).” His song choice?
Ghostbusters. Yes, from the movie. On repeat for two hours.
Combine that with the belly aches and shrieking from Bugaboo all weekend and you can stick a fork in me, I’m done.
And people wonder why I’m stressed out.
Certainly not from lack of sleep, poo, screaming kids and hearing the same songs over and over and over again. Nope.