Category Archives: Laughing boy tales

The T word

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I’m seriously starting to hate the T word. Trans-fucking-ition. Professionals (teachers, social workers, clinicians) drip it into conversations with big nods and concerned faces.

“We need to talk about transition,” they say, before disappearing out the door.
“How old is LB now? Mmmm… nearly in transition then.”
“I’ll make an appointment around seven months before his 18th birthday, so we can really start to discuss transition. But you should be thinking about it now.”

OK. I’m thinking. Think think thinkety think.  Er. I’m struggling a bit here. What am I actually supposed to be thinking about?

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LB and the fashion police

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LB and clothes. Well that’s been a bit of an interesting and insightful journey so far.  Like his use of space (hanging out in the swing bin or sleeping on bookshelves), his choice of clothes has been unusual. Consistently unusual.

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LB and Steve Wright

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“Where was Steve Wright born, Mum?”
“Southend.”
“Why, Mum?”
“I don’t know. It’s just where he was born.”
“Where was Steve Wright born, Mum?”
“Southend.”
“Where does Steve Wright live now, Mum?”
“Central London I think.”
“Central London, Mum?”
“Yep.”
“Does Steve Wright wear glasses, Mum?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Has Steve Wright got a moustache, Mum?”
“Yep, I think so.”
“How long has Steve Wright been a DJ, Mum?”
“Wow. About 30 years now. He used to be on Radio One.”
“What’s Steve Wright got, Mum?”
“What?”
“What’s Steve Wright got, Mum?”
“Erm… DJitis?”
“Yes Mum.”

 

LB, Bollo and the voices

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Had a bit of a scare a couple of years ago.  LB’s teacher wrote home in the diary that LB was hearing voices in his head. We just dismissed this as ‘that’s just the kinda guy he is’, but the teacher and school nurse were worried it could be evidence of underlying psychotic tendencies. They organised an urgent referral to the local psychiatric hospital. Oh yeah, it ain’t a dull ride having a dude like LB.

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History of a diagnosis (es)

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LB and ‘diagnosis’. Well that was a winding old road, with a few false starts (and ultimately a dead end). I knew there was something up from the first couple of months. He was way, way too good. So good (undemanding, placid, cheerful, smiley and happy to just watch everyone) but every so often, he would have random outbursts in which he was inconsolable. I used to ask friends if they thought there was anything different about him but it was always a giant ‘NOOOOOOO.  Don’t be daft’… But I knew. Continue reading →

LB and the failed kebab

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“Hey LB! How did meal prep go today?”
“Not good Mum.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“I failed Mum.”
“Whaddayamean, you failed?”
“I failed Mum.”
“Why? What did you cook?”
“Kebabs Mum.”
“Oh, I don’t get it. What went wrong?”
“I didn’t have a skewer Mum.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“So what did you eat for lunch?”
“Bits Mum.”

“Mum?”

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“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“Mum?”

“YEEEESSSS?”

“Mum?

…

“Mum?”

“STOP SAYING MUM ALL THE TIME. Whaddayawant LB????”

“Mum…Do you like Irish lorries, Mum?”

“No.”

“OK, Mum.”

The lost day on the London bus

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The final birthday trip, before LB restricted the jaunt to ‘just  you and me, Mum’, was a trip to the Tower of London.  We set off, early Saturday morning, caught the coach to Marble Arch and jumped on the bus to the Tower of London.  The bus was an old Routemaster with a conductor geezer standing at the back steps.  Perfect. Continue reading →

Laughing boy and the mermaids

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LB came back from his dad’s house very chirpy indeedy.  He’d watched the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean film and was very, very taken with the mermaids in it.  Turns out he hadn’t come across mermaids before.  Having such specialist interests from a very early age (buses, lorries, Eddie Stobart and the London Met) meant that he boycotted all the usual books/films that mermaids would crop up in.  At nearly 17, mermaids were a revelation.

He’s now become very focused on finding out if they exist, or not.  Since yesterday morning, we’ve repeatedly said they are a myth.  Richy has googled images of manatee’s to talk about where the myth may have come from, but he ain’t convinced.

Today he came back from school with a handwritten note to put in a bottle and drop in the River Thames. The note says;

To the mermaids, do you exist or don’t you? From LB

I’ll keep you posted.

Waiting for the the bus

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This morning I was desperate to go to the loo but couldn’t. Because I was waiting for the bus.  The bus that isn’t a bus at all anymore. It’s now a car. The car that takes LB to school each morning.  I can’t nip off to the loo because there is a risk that LB will open the front door if the bus arrives.  The escort at the mo’ is a little person and I’m worried that our dog, who is totally intolerant of difference (I know.. the irony, eh?) may run out and nip her. So I wait. Continue reading →