My nine year old son started attending school when he was two.

For the first year, or so, he went to a county-run preschool for children with developmental disabilities because of his motor and speech delays. It was a good place for him to get daily therapy and socialization, but it wasn’t really the right fit for him.

When he was old enough, we moved him to a local preschool and into a classroom with a teacher/student ratio of 2/9. The teachers were attentive and patient and we kept him there through Pre-K, which, in the end, turned out to be a pretty disastrous school year.

For Kindergarten, we turned to a small, private school where they hired me to work as an aide. If my son ever had any issues, I was right upstairs, and when he moved into first grade I started working in the cafeteria so that I could be there even more.

This year, he is in third grade. I don’t work at the school anymore and, ironically, it is the first time that I have sent him off in the morning without ever-looming worry. I know he will be fine.

What makes this year so different isn’t that he’s doing better academically; he has always done well in that regard. It isn’t because he’s more independent, because that has been a long, slow process that I couldn’t help but see coming. And, it isn’t because he doesn’t choke as often when he eats…though that is pretty awesome.

This year is terrific because his teacher “gets” him.

There is something to be said for understanding that everyone, even children, have different personalities…and boy, does my kid have one! The third grade teacher appreciates my son’s sense of humor. I know this, because almost every time she approaches me to tell me when he’s been up to, she is laughing.

The other day, when she saw me at the school, she did just that.

Apparently, that day, when the class handed in some papers, she saw that my son’s wasn’t labeled with his name.

She noticed before he walked away and said, “Hey, wait a minute. How will I know this is yours if you didn’t put your name on it?”

He took his worksheet back from her and quickly took pencil to paper.

Then he handed it back and said, “Here. Mine’s the one with the X.”

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My son celebrated his First Communion last weekend.  A dear man, who happens to be my former co-worker as the maintenance man at my kids’ school and who also happens to be one of my son’s best friends, sent him a card of congratulations.

Yesterday morning this dear man stopped by the school and was sipping coffee with the school secretary when my son and I made a trip to the office because of an upset stomach (my son’s, not mine).

We were both excited to see our old friend and my son ran to him and gave him a big hug.  Then he said, “Thank you for the card and the $20!”

Our friend said, “You’re welcome!”

Then my son said, “But, somebody else gave me $50!”

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You know how you go to work at your lunch lady job, and the maintenance man retires, the one who is the nicest man on the planet, who greets your son at school every day with a high-five and a smile and treats him like he doesn’t have a special need in the world, when really your son would rather listen to “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy” on his electric piano on the highest volume, ALL day long than do anything else, and the nicest man on the planet draws you funny pictures, and would do anything for anyone, and makes work totally non-work-like, and the school has an assembly for him and the kids sing “In My Life” and you start crying SUPER hard, and then the nicest man on the planet sees your son in the crowd and picks him up, and your son says, “I wish that you would never leave”, and then they hug in front of the entire school and you sob so violently that when you go back to the cafeteria you can barely roll up the turkey wraps?

Yeah, me too.

Goodbye, Mr. B.  We love you.

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The principal at the school where I work, and where my children attend, was walking through the cafeteria the other day when I saw her stop to talk to my son.  A few minutes later, I took a big gulp as she approached the kitchen where I was working. 

Not that I was terribly worried, as his blatant honesty has prepared me for anything.

Let’s review, shall we?

He once told a doctor that she had a, “really, really, really big nose” and he told an elderly woman that she was dead.  He saw a wrinkled, old lady at the store and said that she needed to use lotion and has even complimented large people…by telling them that he likes their “chinny chin chins.”

And, let’s not forget when he named his testicles, Racer and Jennifer, then proceeded to tell complete strangers about his “babies”.

My son keeps things interesting.  Although he has a whole lot of quirks, there is one part of his behavior that is constant; you never know what he is going to say.

I was thinking of this when the principal walked up to me and stated, “Diane, I have to tell you what your son just said.”

I began to form an apology in my head, but then she continued, “He wanted to wish me a happy afternoon and tell me that he’s been praying for my sister.  He says the most appropriate things!”

To which I replied, “Give him a minute.”

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