“Can I have tuna today?”\u00a0 asked Benj plaintively, knowing that he’d pretty much already reached his two-servings of mercury fish a week.<\/p>\n
I decided to look the other way today.\u00a0 “Can’t you make it yourself?”\u00a0 I was tired from a long bike ride; besides, why can’t he make his own, at 12 years old?<\/p>\n
Ben shuffled off, mumbling that he’d make it later, meaning, he’d wait until I was ready to make it.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, Nat had been running into the kitchen and then out again, telling me non-verbally that he, too, wanted to eat.\u00a0 So I got a 2-bird killing idea:\u00a0 have Nat make it.\u00a0 Whatever part of it he does, it would help me out.\u00a0 “Nat, can you make some tuna?”<\/p>\n
Nat pivoted elegantly into the kitchen and pulled down a can.\u00a0 His face was tense; he was just as happy to make his own lunch as Ben had been.\u00a0 He half-heartedly looked in the wrong drawer for the can opener.\u00a0 “Oh, it’s in the silverware drawer,” I said, without helping any further.\u00a0 Let him ask for help, I thought.\u00a0 That’s what I’m supposed to be doing these days:\u00a0 not doing so much.<\/p>\n
Nat got the can-opener and I asked, “Do you know how to use that?” immediately forgetting what I’m supposed<\/em> to be doing, i.e., not doing.<\/p>\n “Ye-es,” he said, which usually means, “not really.”\u00a0 But I watched him puncture the lid, and I pressed his hand down a little bit more, and then he did the rest.\u00a0 “Can you drain it?”\u00a0 I asked, my voice trailing off as I watched him drain it. He looked for a bowl.\u00a0 “Oh, you can use one of those green bowls,” I said.\u00a0 Shut up, Susan!\u00a0 He got the bowl and dumped in the tuna.\u00a0 “You can use a fork to get the rest out,” I said. At this point, I figured it was okay for me to keep instructing, because I wasn’t doing any of the work, and it seemed like all I was doing was giving him the tiniest nudge of help.<\/p>\n But I now restrained myself.\u00a0 The mayonaise.\u00a0 Hidden in the depths of the crowded, over-stacked refrigerator.\u00a0 I have “bad refrigerator etiquette,” as my Dad calls it when you just place stuff haphazardly (tupperware container of spaghetti balanced on the top of the ketchup bottle) and slam the door shut hopefully. The next person gets the rude awakening of the ketchup falling on his foot.\u00a0 So I watched Nat, wondering if this would go okay.\u00a0 He made a tentative foray behind a few items, to no avail.\u00a0 He stood back.\u00a0 He went back in, and this time, was moving stuff around.<\/p>\n “Motor planning problems, my ass,” I muttered, remembering that asshole school intake, from when he was four, the horrible thing the school director did, hiding Nat’s shoes inside a complicated play structure, and giving him no instruction whatsoever.\u00a0 Nat could see his shoes, and he cried and cried for about an hour; we were not allowed to help.\u00a0 “You see, he has motor-planning issues,” the All-Knowing Autism Expert told us, “that’s why he cannot get to his shoes.”\u00a0 But I, sad little Mommy, knew that Natty just didn’t know that he should go get his shoes<\/em>.\u00a0 Someone had taken them away.\u00a0 These things happen to Nat.\u00a0 But he wanted <\/em>his shoes.\u00a0 Now what?\u00a0 Cry.<\/p>\n Such was young Nat’s predicament so often in those days.\u00a0 Not knowing if he could, if he should, so he’d just be quiet and wait, wait, wait.\u00a0 Needless to say, we did not send him to that mean little school.<\/p>\n Nat deftly pulled out the mayo and twisted the cap a few times.\u00a0 He shook a few huge glops out and mixed it up.\u00a0 Done.\u00a0 “Wow, thanks, Nat.”<\/p>\n I plopped a little on a bulkie roll for Benj, and gave Nat the rest.\u00a0 “Oh, thanks, Mom,” Ben said with relief.<\/p>\n “You can thank Nat,” I said.\u00a0 Ben whispered a thanks that Nat never heard, so of course I, mediating little Mommy, shouted, “Excellent, Nat!\u00a0 Thank you.\u00a0 I love when you do things yourself!”<\/p>\n A lot of irony here, and a little mercury.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “Can I have tuna today?”\u00a0 asked Benj plaintively, knowing that he’d pretty much already reached his two-servings of mercury fish a week. I decided to look the other way today.\u00a0 “Can’t you make it yourself?”\u00a0 I was tired from a long bike ride; besides, why can’t he make his own, at 12 years old? 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