The results are in...

Posted earlier today at my pal Genevieve's blog:

So, getting an official diagnosis of autism hasn't made everything as different as I thought it might. I guess I was a little surprised that my son was diagnosed as autistic rather than having Asperger's syndrome, but since there is a list of criteria that gets checked off, if you have enough checkmarks under the autism umbrella, that diagnosis trumps Asperger's.

The phrase "high-functioning" was mentioned a lot, though that wasn't much of a surprise, as Brody has taken recently to becoming a walking billboard, writing "www.thx.com" on his arm and filling up reams of paper with all his favorite words.

An official diagnosis, I suppose, not only gives us a starting point, but it will make getting assistance for him a little easier. I hope.

But in the big picture, not a lot has changed. After all, he's still my son. He still does all the goofy and amazing things he's always done. I think it's important not to lose sight of that.

My wife will likely roll her eyes so hard she will see into the past when I say this, but when I think about talking to my son sometimes, I'm reminded of the episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Captain Picard is on a planet with an alien captain who speaks in metaphor. So instead of things like "Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra," it's "She's gone and I'll never see her again," which is something he says when he's sad or overwhelmed. It's from an episode of Spongebob Squarepants.

I think this is hardest on my wife, because she has to deal with both of us. But even then, knowing the reason behind something makes it a little easier to understand. Of course, knowing why your husband is obsessed with old TV commercials and crappy movies probably doesn't help when it comes to you know, actually helping to take care of the kids, but she's pretty awesome.

So it's kind of an adventure for the whole family. We never know quite where the day will take us, and we don't know what TV show or movie Mr. Total Recall will use to convey a point (seriously, it's a little eerie watching him perform stuff he's seen only once. He gets the inflection down pat and everything), but underneath it all, he's a great kid, and I love watching him grow up.

Perhaps some day I'll join him.

So happy together

Well, Mrs. Dork Dad has returned from her trip, and the whole family got to spend a nice day together, which was nice. We all missed her, and she claims to have missed me as well.

I'm going to miss hanging out with the kids now that I'll be back at work, and I'll miss not having to commute every day, but until I hit the lottery, such is my lot in life.

Now hopefully I still remember how to do my job...

Home Alone, Day 4: The home stretch

Well, Mrs. Dork Dad gets back from her trip tomorrow, and huzzah, huzzah, I managed not to burn down the house or lose either of the kids to roving bands of gypsies or supervillains. On top of that, Bouncing Lass helped me vacuum (she hung out in the Baby Bjorn), and I got a load and a half of laundry done.

Of course, my wife does that and more while juggling various freelancing projects, but for me, it's still impressive.

So is remembering to shave both sides of my face before leaving the house, but hey, baby steps, right?

On top of that, I went to my first practice as an assistant coach. Yep, I've been tapped to help teach a group of Little League T-ballers. Technically, the coach does that, but I help out where I can.

So far, it's pretty fun. Probably even more so once the season starts and we play full games. While I didn't play a ton of baseball in my youth (short kids with glasses don't get much chance to shine), I like it.

Hopefully I'll fare better than Charlie Brown did with his team.

Home Alone, Day 3: Things get goofy

I have managed to heal my son, which is good, because if he was motionless much longer, I think my daughter might have tried to eat him. She likes the food.

We're currently watching Goofy cartoons, which both Dork Lad and I enjoy quite a bit. The skiing one is probably my favorite, but just about any Goofy cartoon is better (for me, anyway) than watching There Goes a Dump Truck for the skrillionth time.

The next cartoon is starting, so I'd better get going.

Home Alone, Day 2: I'm only sleeping

Dork Lad seems to be sleeping off the tummy bug he picked up; poor little nubbin. He's keeping hydrated and getting some rest. He'll probably be up and running tomorrow.

Home Alone, Day 1: He tasks me...

So natch, the first day I'm in charge of the kids, Dork Lad decides he's going to do the Technicolor yawn. Barfing kid--always a crowd-pleaser. Meh.

Bouncing Lass (so named for her bionic spring-loaded legs) isn't being too bad so far, although I'd like to eat at some point. A superhero's gotta eat, right? Oh well. Not like I'm going to waste away to nothing...

Impending doom?

For the next 5 days, I'm going to be in charge of the kids, as Mrs. Dork Dad is going away on a trip. Now is the time for you all to place your bets on how I'll do.

My prediction: I will have a beard by the time I go back to work Tuesday.

The kids are pretty good, so I should be all right. Plus, I did used to be home with Dork Lad every day, so it's not completely new.

The startling origin of Dork Dad!

I'm a dork. At various times, I've also been a geek, a nerd, and a spaz, among other things.

Being a dork used to cause me great anguish, but recently, I've been learning to use my powers for the good of mankind.

Granted, a lot of that anguish was negated by the fact that I married a gorgeous brunette and had children, but everywhere I go, I tend to feel out of place, like a lightsaber at a Star Trek convention.

Now where my super powers come into play is dealing with my 4-year-old son, Dork Lad. Like his dad, Dork Lad isn't quite like the other kids, and you know what, that's totally okay. I'm realizing it's not about what's right, or what "normal" is. It's how we are, and how we can use that knowledge to better adapt to our surroundings.

The better I understand how my brain works, the better I can help my son. He's not exactly like me, luckily for him, but we have enough in common that you can tell we're father and son, even without matching capes.

I just want to do the best I can in training him before he leaves the Dork Cave and goes out in the world. And as much as I teach him, he's going to be teaching me.

This blog is a record of our education.