Lunch Treat

Earlier this afternoon, the Son of Never Stops Eating did something I honestly didn't see coming: he took me out to lunch after church.

You don't have to, I told him.  We have plenty of food at home.  But he had his heart set on chicken and fries, and he was willing- insistent, actually- to pay for it with his snow cone stand job earnings, so after some discussion about who had the best chicken tenders and fries, we set off for the local Whataburger and enjoyed a delicious lunch.  Today is his last day of work since school is starting this week, and he told me he was going to miss his job and his paycheck and that he was going to stop buying Legos for awhile because he wanted to save his money (but I've heard that last one before, and then two weeks later he finds his newest heart's desire online, and that is the end of the saving money- so I'm dubious about the last part).

If a visitor from the future had appeared to me back in the mid 2000's and told me "In a few years, this kid who isn't talking to you and who doesn't seem interested in human interaction and who just wants to run around whenever you try to get him to participate in anything will be taking you out to lunch with money he earned at a part time job", I would have been convinced that this time traveler's brains were completely scrambled by whatever process had enabled him or her to venture back to the past, or that they had me confused with some other person, but I wouldn't have believed a word of any of it- which is likely a problem time travelers encounter on a regular basis.

This is the problem with autism: I usually have people make one of two assumptions about the Son of Never Stops Eating, when they find out he's on the spectrum.  I once tried to talk to a church youth counselor about the Son of Never Stops Eating participating in activities, and his concern was that I needed to be there so that I could toilet him and help him eat.  His impression (based on one encounter) was that people with autism were essentially helpless.   I also have people who will tell me not to worry about my son's future because he's probably a coding savant; he'll get a job at Microsoft, and them move to Seattle, where evidently he'll fit in just fine.  Neither of these things happen to be true here- the Son of Never Stops Eating is definitely capable of feeding himself (as I write this, he is feeding himself a huge piece of chocolate cake), and he has zero interest in coding.

These encounters usually end in me saying something like "not all kids with autism are similar, that's why it's referred to as a spectrum", and then the other person says something like "oh yeah, I think I've heard that before, so he's not like Temple Grandin? Because I watched that show on TV and it was really good".

In the recent past, one of my concerns about him was what would happen if he got a job and then his employer wanted him to wear khaki pants, or an itchy polo shirt?  At his current job he can wear shorts and a t-shirt, so it was a non-issue.  Since school starts Tuesday, I asked him what he is going to wear on his first day of school, and he responded with "the usual", which maybe because he is a teenage boy or maybe because he hates wearing pants and itchy shirts or maybe both is always going to be shorts and a t-shirt even if it's freezing (that's one of the things I'm always wondering: is this a teenage boy thing, or an autism thing, or a Generation Z thing, or am I just being an overthinking mother and it's not a thing at all?".  So then I asked him what he'd do if he got a job and had to wear clothes he didn't like.

He sighed deeply.  Mom, he says, I don't like itchy clothes for school but if I had to wear it for work, I would do it because I am getting paid at a job and I like money but school is just school.

I wanted to ask him if he was also willing to wear deodorant to work, because the last time we had a discussion about deodorant he was insistent that deodorant was for school days only, but some things I honestly just don't want to be aware of.

The entire time we were eating, The Son of Never Stops Eating's latest Lego creation, some V-wing or X wing or something like that space fighter, was sitting on the table next to his Whataburger box of chicken tenders, and at least twice someone stopped at our table to ask him- with apparent genuine interest- if he'd built it himself and how long it had taken (yes, and 2 hours).

Yep, back in 2009, when I was chasing the Son of Never Stops Eating around a baseball field, trying without any success to get him to at least look at me and maybe try swinging a bat, and he was running away from me with the speed of an Olympic sprinter, I never saw a day in which I'd be sitting at a Whataburger with him (and an intricate Lego creation he'd built) eating a meal he'd paid for with money he'd earned himself and having conversations about why it would be OK to wear itchy clothes to work (but definitely not school), whether Mr. Burns is more evil than Darth Vader, and how he might join the art club at school (but maybe not).

I saw a lot of possible futures, but not a single one looked like this.

A Teen and His Money

Several months ago, when the Son of Never Stops Eating was still in 10th grade, he was going on a field trip with his class.  As part of that excursion, they were going to stop and eat at a restaurant, and the instructions said to bring money for a lunch and tip.  The night before, I went searching for $10 to give him and came up with about $5 and a few stray pennies.

"I don't think this is going to be enough", I told him.  "Use your debit card and I'll pay you back".

About ten minutes after lunch the next day, he started texting me: MOM! Did you pay me back? MOM! I need money! MOM! Don't forget to pay me back! MOOOMMMMMMM  I want my MONEY MOM! Did you put $10 in my account yet? MOM I want my MONEY!

Then: Mom I love you Mom don't forget my money!

He was being really persistent, considering that the only money he had at the time was the allowance I was giving him, so technically he had loaned me my own money and was now demanding rapid reimbursement of money I'd given him in the first place even though I'd meant it to pay for hamster bedding and saving up for Legos, not for lunch- it was like dealing with a Vegas loan shark (not that I've had that experience first hand, but I can envision it) or the Mafia.

You should be happy he doesn't know about interest, a co-worker said.  He'd be charging you by the minute.  I was making a mental note to never borrow my own money from my son again, and was remembering the days long ago when I wondered if he'd ever be able to read or write well enough to get a point across.  Clearly, this educational milestone had been met.

A few weeks ago, he ordered, using money he'd made from a part-time summer job, his latest heart's desire: a Lego Star Wars X-wing or V-wing Darth Vader Super Fighting Rebel Warp Drive Fighter Jet (or something like that). He had ordered this, with my assistance (by which I mean he stood behind me and told me exactly what number the Lego set was from memory while I typed in the order) from a gargantuan online seller.  It was actually being shipped by a third-party, not the behemoth itself, a fact which really didn't register at the moment.  He ordered it using his debit card (side note: we won't be doing that anymore, so if you're tempted to message me that this was a bad idea, you don't need to) and immediately (and by immediately, what I really mean is "the nanosecond I pressed the order button") started pestering me about when this Super-V Wing Jet Nuclear Powered Jedi Fighter was going to arrive.  Patience, grasshopper, I advised him.  It's not like he doesn't have at least three huge tubs of Legos already.

It didn't arrive that day, or the next day, or the day after that, or even the week after that- it hadn't even shipped.  I tried to cancel the order, but was being ignored by the evil third-party seller, who had promised Legos but wasn't delivering.  Fortunately the debit card hadn't been charged but it could be, at any moment, so I had told the Son of Never Stops Eating that he couldn't spend that money on anything else just yet.  I needed the order cancelled, desperately, because the Son of Never Stops Eating was wanting his Legos, or permission to use his money, and  he was wanting them RIGHT NOW and by RIGHT NOW I mean that the kid was on summer break and he had plenty of time to text his mother about his desperate lack of a specific Lego construction kit.

MOM! I WANT MY LEGOS! Did you call? Mom don't forget to call! Mom, I NEED my X-Wing fighter! Mom, Don't forget I need my Legos MOM! MOM! MOOOOMMMMMM! I want my money!

MOM I love you MOM Did you cancel it yet? Don't forget MOM!

Please, I am begging you, I told the customer service representative from Gargantuan Seller.  My son is obsessed with these Legos and also with his money.  Please help me cancel the order so that he can order something else.  The customer service representative was efficient and merciful and was able to inform me that yes, the order was being cancelled and with that miraculous news, the Son of Never Stops Eating was once again free to spend his money on some other Lego set despite both the Father of No and I encouraging him to do something bold and new, like save his money or buy something else that isn't Legos.

In special education transition to adulthood meetings, the subject of handling and managing money often comes up as a needed skill.  The next time it does, I'll be able to say that while we don't have all the intricacies worked out of good money management skills, I think he gets that his money is his money- and once he learns about interest, I'll have to be sure to keep cash on hand so I won't need to borrow any of my own money to pay for field trip lunches. I'm fairly certain I won't be able to afford it.