The LPB

A hug! He gave me a freakin' hug! (You'll have to pardon my French, but it's completely apropos considering it's my Aspie mentee we're talking about here.)

A hug may seem like a simple enough affair, especially for those of you who know LM and just how huggable that little dude is. But not all Aspies are as touchy-feely as my LM. The LPB has never gotten in my personal bubble before, so a hug was completely unexpected.  But here I am, starting with the end of the story....

Today was a bit different than usual. When I got to the school The LPB informed me, "I've got my coat on, so we're going outside today."

What? A break in routine? Game on! But, still, I had to double-check. "So...no K'nex today?"

"No-- we can't play K'nex outside."

Oh. Duh. If only Aspie logic was more prevalent in the wide, wide world. Only problem is...I hate going outside. I go outside for three reasons: to get in my car, to take a jog or walk when I'm fed up with my treadmill, or when somebody makes me (which isn't often because, let's face it, I'm a grown-up now). I don't like to go hang out in the great outdoors. Blech! Yet, it's not all about me, is it?

But first we had to eat lunch. And I noticed The LPB eyeing my juice. "You...uh...want my juice?"

"Yep," he said, grabbing it and handing me his chocolate milk.  "We'll trade today." He then made short work of my apple-berry blend.

"You wanna see somethin' fun?" I asked, a wicked gleam in my eye. "But we gotta wait until those Kindergartners pass by first," I whispered conspiratorially. We watched the little guys traipse past on their way to the lunch line, trying to look as innocent as possible. When they were out of sight, I blew up the juice pouch and set it on the floor. Then I stomped on it; hard. What I was trying to do was send the straw flying across the room. But what happened in reality was that a spray of juice rocketed over the carpet, the straw staying firmly in place. (Guess I should have made sure the pouch was empty first. Oops.)  I know I should have been mortified, but we laughed our heads off. I'd never seen him laugh before.

Then we headed outside, whereupon I learned my fate for the rest of our time together. I was to become a bomb deactivator. I have no employable skills in this area, but I accepted the job regardless. (Don't let anyone tell you Aspies don't have imaginations. They just have...different ways of actualizing their imaginary worlds than us neuro-typicals.)  The LPB has a very literal, logical imagination. For instance, when I took out my keys and said, "Wait a minute! I have a bomb deactivating tool! Look!" he stared at my keys and stated, "those are keys."  "I know they're keys! But we're pretending!"  Hey, if he was taking me outside my box, I certainly wasn't going to let him stay all comfy-cozy in his.

I also learned that to play in LPB's world means to do everything he tells me to and to keep my ideas to myself; he doesn't want or need them.

"Hey! I think I see a suspicious-looking building over there! Must be a bomb nearby!"

"No, that's just a storage shed. There's no bomb in there."

"Oh." And so on.

But by the time we went inside, I'd learned a thing or two about saving the elementary school from bomb-laying evil-doers. We marched inside to meet his class, all lined up in the hallway. We were smiling and rosy-cheeked from running around the field in search of bombs. And that's when he hugged me. I was saying goodbye, and didn't even expect him to acknowledge it. let alone initiate physical contact.

I won't see him next Monday (President's Day), but that hug will last me until our next "appointment".