"Pete and Repeat were walkin' down the street. Pete left. Who's left?"
"Repeat."
"Pete and Repeat were walkin' down the street. Pete left. Who's left?"
"Repeat."
"Pete and ..........."
In the same vein as "Orange you glad I didn't say 'banana'?", this is the kind of humor I have forced on Big Daddy and my kids all these years. It's become a family inside-joke; a sly reference to Pete can be made, and we all snicker because we are in "the know". For some reason I have ducks associated with Pete and RePete. Maybe I saw it in an illustrated joke book long ago. Or I met a duck named Pete at a carnival petting zoo and tied the images together. (Strange, I've never made that connection with either of my Uncle Petes, and neither of them resemble any sort of water fowl.)
No, these are not my Uncle Petes. Hardy-har-har.
J-Boy has a little quirk: he often repeats himself, or sometimes other people if they say something he finds witty or funny. The repeat is always in a much lower tone, just under his breath and to himself. He's not concerned about it. Sometimes his friends will ask him why he does it, and he nonchalantly replies, "because of autism." Not that we allow him to play the "A" card to get away with things. But, at the same time, he is gaining some understanding and self-awareness, which are very good things.
On the drive to school one morning, J-Boy noticed this billboard:
"Ha! That's funny, Mom--It says, 'We like to repeat ourselves'. Me too! Me too.""Yeah! Ha-ha! Maybe you could work for them someday..."
"Yeah! 'Maybe you could work for them someday.' Maybe. Maybe.....Uh, Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, I don't think I will work for them someday."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You know, because of the surgery thing? I don't like that."
"Honey, I was only joking."
"Yeah, I know. I know."
It's true. He really doesn't like any shows that have doctors in the O.R. No pausing on the Discovery Health Channel at our house. Thank goodness my Dr. 90210 phase is over! Thank goodness my Dr. 90210 phase is over. You know, some things just bear repeating.
I love J-Boy. To pieces. He and Taylor are oil and water. She lives on those gory health shows. The gorier, the better. I probably shouldn't say anything because I'm fairly sure your mother reads this, but I couldn't help to protect my J-Boy. The speed limit sign reads 50, I can tell by the picture that you were doing 52. Just consider this your warning. I won't turn you in this time, but I am a licensed reporter of child endangerment. Just sayin'
Posted by: Alisa | February 25, 2009 at 08:29 AM