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I was on my way back home after picking my son up from his friend’s house. Since Sunday he’s been sporting his new end-of-the-school-year fauxhawk, courtesy of my wife, and he’s been tickled pink about it.

In the midst of the drive home, we were sitting at a stop light when I reached behind me so he could give me five.

“You rock, buddy!”

Of course, his answer was laconic.

“You know you rock, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Do you think you could teach me how to rock?”
“I don’t know about that, Dad.”

« »

4 Responses

  1. Yeah, you just can’t teach “rockin'”… ya either got it, or ya don’t. I’m guessing you don’t. LMAO!

    LOL! Too cute.

    Reminds me of my conversation with Alex about what kind of “weird” I am. LOL!

    Now wait just a damned minute! I’ve got my guitars and my death metal and all that! Just because I’m old and bald and overweight and married and have a kid and drive an Oldsmobile and … and … *sigh*

    Damn you, Sue. 😉

  2. Regarding the laconic reference: In one of my prior jobs, we had to help a man with Asberger’s (sp?) Syndrome prepare for an upcoming interview at a local casino. The casino was adament about only having “fun” people work there so part of the employment test was to the crazy chicken dance. It was very interesting trying to get this guy to show some feeling for his crazy chicken dance. That was a fun day at work.

    My son doesn’t usually get too excited for dancing either. And though he’ll sometimes sing to himself, generally if you ask him to sing you’ll outright tick him off.

    Put some kiddie drums in front of him, though, and he’ll wail on them for a good twenty minutes. Oh, he won’t keep time, but he’ll have a blast. He also loves my guitar with the distortion on. That’s what he calls “rocking” – it’s not rock until the overdrive kicks on. Amusing since he’s a typical Aspie and doesn’t usually like loud noises.

  3. FYI, it’s the Oldsmobile that did it.


    Yeah, well, it beats the Taurus I used to drive. I have my motorcycle for when I want to be cool.

    Oh, wait…I DON’T have my motorcycle. Damn it all to hell.

  4. Kids are so wonderfully honest.

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