Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

Captain Underpants Saves the Day

My son is just starting to read.  Never mind that he’s 13 years old, I couldn’t be prouder that he’s finally taken an interest in the idea of reading a book at all.  His autism has seriously hampered his ability to digest words, since language processing plays a big part when you’re trying to read.  It takes him longer than the average bear to get through one sentence at a time, whether hearing it or attempting to read it.  But, thank goodness God created Dave Pilkey, the man responsible for the Captain Underpants series.  There is nothing like a juvenile graphic novel that features non-stop wedgies, talking toilets and creepy cafeteria ladies to lasso a young fella’s fancy.


For those of you looking to get your fill of 4th grade potty humor (oh, and you know who you are.  I’ve had dinner with you before) – I highly recommend you purchase these books for you and your crumb-crushers.  There will be plenty of eye-rolling and groaning intermixed with some chuckles as you turn the pages … and that’s the part that counts, the turning of the pages.  Over and over again.


My young man who has always had great difficulty with the written word finds himself ready to pick up the next new chapter book the minute he sets the last one down.  That’s a pretty remarkable thing and I’ve found myself not minding the constant repeating of “Ivana Gota Bafroom”, because I know he had to read it a couple of times to finally get the joke and that, too is nothing short of phenomenal (abstract anything is not a concept easily grasped by autistics).


Recently, I had to write a less than 200 word story about a superhero visiting an elementary school for Career Day.  Until you get your own copies of Captain Underpants, here’s something to tide you over:


Super Brad / Super Dad


Taking dad to Career Day at school sounded like a good idea at first, after all he’s more than just a super dad – he’s Super Brad the superhero: the crime-fighting, baby-saving, bad-guy-butt-kicking kind.

But, I knew I’d made a mistake when Travis started trash talking about dad’s adventures.  “Stopped a bus from going off a cliff?  Big whoop.  I saw that on HBO two years ago!”

Rachael, in the desk behind me, sure didn’t help.  “Your clothes are stupid.  My little sister wears the same thing to Baby Ballet!”  Dad tried to explain how it made him more aerodynamic and fireproof, but nobody listened.  Nine year olds can be that way.

The teacher left the room during dad’s presentation (to run away and text her boyfriend, according to Dad’s super-seeing), so the class started to do crazy things to make dad prove his powers.  Then it was a Super Brad blur as he saved everyone from jumping, hanging and swinging around the room.


It wasn’t until the morning’s cafeteria muffins and milk caused Dad to blow out three windows that the kids finally believed my father had super powers.  Superman has kryptonite – Super Brad is lactose intolerant.

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