“MUMMY!” he hollers. I scramble into the other room as his voice would indicate that someone has stabbed him with a lethal weapon. He is seated on a high stool playing his allotted 30 minute of Gamecube. My eyes check him over but there do not appear to be any lacerations, gaping wounds or gashes, nor any fountains of blood. His eyes are still glued to the screen as I enquire, “what is it dear!”
“'Emperor' and 'remember' rhyme!” he yells at fifty decibels, his voice directed at the television screen. I look at the screen, “did you read that? Is that what the game is about? Are you stuck? Do you need an emperor or something?” I ask, beginning to ramble.
“No, nuffink like dat. I am just telling you fings. You are happy when I am telling you dah fings.”
I am? Is this what 'happiness' is supposed to feel like? Heart pounds, dry mouth, goldfish gasping, sweaty palms and racing mind, if not brain. Did I say that? Oh yes, that's one of the things I've been saying for a few years now, reinforcing the occasional splinter of information offered, but nobody ever takes any notice. It would appear that his modulation and regulation are out of whack. [translation = his response is not appropriate, an over-reaction]
I attempt reinforcement, acknowledgment of his sterling efforts to put into practice what I have been preaching at him. “Well, thank you so much for telling me that,” not the best word choice, but a positive hearty tone, accompanied by a shunned hug. Although he won’t permit his attention to be distracted by a cuddle, he does manage the verbal, “yur welcum!”
It would appear that I need to recalibrate my own 'alert' system too. Is anyone really “normal?” If he is on a path to sharing information with me, in a voluntary manner, in a tone reminiscent of 'duck and cover,' I don't know if my sensory will stand the strain. All this progress can be a bit much for some “feeble minded parents.”
And there was me thinking that he was the hyper-vigilant one! Maybe I just need to tweak my ‘fight or flight’ response.