Yesterday, Mark went to band practice with some older kids. Older, thoughtful kids, I might add, as they provided Mark with protective ear plugs to wear.
We were driving around in the car, and I didn't notice them at first. It was only after I asked Mark a question three different times (while he was sitting next to me) that I noticed something was askew.
I tapped Mark on the shoulder, and he gave me a thumbs up. I repeated my question again, and he smiled and nodded, then asked, in a really loud voice, "AM I TALKING REALLY LOUD?"
"Yes," I said, growing ever more irritated. "What is wrong with you?"
Mark smiled, and fished the ear plugs out of his ears, showing them to me.
At the next stop light, I turned to see Mark chewing on the ear plugs. I immediately yelled at Mark to take them out of his mouth.
"OK, geez," he snorted. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is, they were just jammed inside your ears!" I said.
"I have A.D.D.," Mark answered, using his favorite new excuse for everything.
"So do I," I answered. "And I never shoved anything in my mouth that was previously in my ears."
He just stared at me, so I clarified.
"Please don't stick anything in any orifice, and then put it in your mouth," I said, as patiently as I could.
"What's an 'orifice'?" Mark asked.
"A hole into your body," I explained. "Your ears, your nostrils, your mouth." I knew to stop while I was ahead.
"What about my fingers?" he asked, wiggling them at me. "They're full of orifices!"
And of course, they were. He showed me the million tiny holes from pricking his fingers during his blood sugar testing multiple times a day. And suddenly, my irritation disappeared, and I just laughed out loud.
"OK," I said, admitting defeat. "Those are okay. You can shove your ear plugs in your finger orifices if they'll fit."
We both laughed. And then I smiled, shook my head, and realized I could only have these kinds of conversations with a boy.
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