“Go ask Mommy,” I
heard my husband say to Conor from the boys’ bathroom. “She’s in Aidan’s room.”
Uh oh, I
thought. What now? Please don’t
ask me if you can have the $96 calculator for Christmas again. It’s only May.
“Mom?” Conor asked
liltingly as he comes through the door.
Jim followed close on his heels.
“Yes, Conor,” I
replied, barely looking up from my laptop. I usually work on my blog while Aidan reads a book before
bed. He likes the company.
“Mom? What’s this?” he asked
inquisitively.
I don't know, what’s that he’s
got in his hand?
He came closer.
“That’s Aidan’s cup
for baseball,” I replied, trying hard not to giggle at the black and silver
protective cup in Conor's hand. My
husband has forbade me from giggling about the whole cup thing. Protecting your jewels must be no
laughing matter, I suppose.
“He wears it to
protect his penis,” I finished.
Conor burst into
laughter. I swear, we rarely hear
him laugh so naturally like that. He turned to look at his dad with a smile in
his eyes and more giggling. He
threw the cup on Aidan’s bed and left the room, still giggling.
I think I just got punk'd by my autistic kid.
“It’s really for his
testicles, hon,” my husband winked at me.
I swear, I don’t
know how you guys walk around with those things.
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