One of things that is utterly delightful about having someone with autism in your life is their logic. Regardless of the bad aspects that you encounter, and there are a few, the logic can undoubtedly make up for it.
Here are some of The Boy's recent decents.
On being told to wash his hands after using the toilet;
"I don't need to wash them, I cleaned them after I went to the toilet this morning." (It was 7pm at night).
Whilst, in an attempt to force him into practicing his fine motor skills (which are typically slower in developing in autistic children), I produce a book about John Lassiter, Pixar animator and one of The Boy's personal heroes, in an effort to get him to practice holding a pencil in a tripod grip to do some drawing;
"I won't need to learn to do this, because John Lassiter has people that draw for him. And they use computers anyway."
After a request that he sits down and practices his handwriting has been refused, and I use a grown up he likes who is a journalist as an example of someone who had to learn to have neat writing so that he could do his job (followed by a piercing gaze in my direction);
"No he didn't, he uses his iphone, and I bet when he hasn't got that, he uses a laptop like I do. Or he gets his Mum to do it"
In the midst of a negotiation about bedtime, where he is adament that he does not need to go to bed;
"I don't need to go to bed. I went to sleep yesterday, so I don't need to today. Anyway, it's boring and I want to eat sweets."
On being told the he most certainly will not be eating any sweets and that he will, instead, be going to bed;
"But Daddy's eating sweets. And he's not gone to bed. Why is he eating sweets and watching telly when I have to go to bed? Nanna said he's a baby too, and I'm a big boy, so why is he up and I'm not?"
After hearing that a grown up friend is coming to see him that he has never met before, he tells me, dismissively, when it is enquired whether it is okay if she can come;
"Well, yeah, but only if she has big boobies. And not if she's going to be all girlie and silly, like Lid."
After being told, in depth, about god and heaven etc by a well meaning parent at school;
"Don't be silly, that doesn't make any sense at all."
On enquiry as to whether he had had any lines put through his good behaviour stamps at school (he receives a stamp each time he behaves well at school, which will be crossed out if he shows bad behaviour, like spitting or kicking, hitting et al);
"I didn't get any lines put through my stamps today, I was a really good boy wasn't I Mummy? Can I have a prize?"
After Mummy dishes out a prize, it transpires that whilst he didn't get any lines put through his stamps, he didn't actually get any stamps at all because he was so poorly behaved that day. On further enquiry, where he is asked if he got any stamps at school, he replies, without batting an eyelid;
"I didn't get any lines at school today Mummy."
Then eats his dinner and starts humming.
After a discussion as to why we mustn't hit as it isn't kind and it hurts, and a reminder that we must use gentle hands at all times, he declares;
"What about if I hit people gently? Like this?"
(a resounding thwack around the noggin follows).
After being reminded to be careful whilst walking in the snow, and that he should be careful as he gallops off like a gazelle in the Serengheti, I am advised with a heavy dollop of sarcasm;
"Why would I fall over? I'm ice skating, not walking."
After calling his name six times, I ask him, very loudly, if he can hear me;
"Of course I can hear you Mummy. I'm not deaf. I'm just ignoring you because I don't want to speak to you."
Should. Have got. A cat.