Okay, so, young children tend to have favorite objects or themes, yes? Some kids like dinosaurs, some kids like princesses, etc., etc. Well, autistic children have these nifty things called "fixations", which means basically, you take that normal amount of toddler obsession for a certain object or theme and you crank it to 11. Or 12, possibly.
The Boog's current fixation is monkeys. He goes apeshit for anything with monkeys on it (sorry, I couldn't resist). On a side note, not really a Curious George fan, because, as my biologist husband shouts in exasperation at the television every morning, Curious George IS NOT A MONKEY! HE'S AN APE! BLEEAARRGGHH! Apparently the Boog appreciates and respects this difference. He is his father's son. Anyway...
The problem with fixations is that they are obsessions so strong that they tend to cause problems. I am firmly convinced that his love of monkeys will be my son's downfall. You know what they say: the love of monkey is the root of all evil. Sheesh, I'm on a roll today...
Thus far monkeys have caused the following distracting, painful, or embarrassing snafus:
1. At the Boog's speech therapy group, they sing that Monkey Alligator song. You know, the one where the alligator eats the monkeys one by one because children delight in murder and mayhem? So, all the kids get a little stuffed monkey to hold and the alligator comes by and eats them one by one. The children love it. They shriek with delight...except for the Boog. The Boog will not give up his monkey. He. Will. NOT. Now, this is a child with fine motor delays who can barely hold on to a toothbrush, but he grips that thing like his life depends on keeping that monkey. When the therapist finally pries it from his tiny fingers, he howls in great despair and is generally cranky and uncooperative for the rest of the session. Oops. Monkeys - 1, Boog - 0.
2. The Boog now carries this fabric block with a picture of a monkey on it everywhere with him. It's kind of dirty and gross, because he likes to rub it on the floor and then give it kisses. Ew. Anyway...the other day, we were walking in the parking lot at the grocery store. Dylan and I stopped so he could hand me the Peej, and the Boog, entranced by the sight of the monkey block he was holding out in front of himself, kept walking and went straight over one of those cement block thingys that stops one's car from running over the sidewalk and into the front of the store, because apparently people don't know how to park. Conk. Ouchmyface. Luckily he didn't lose any teeth or break anything, but he got a bloody nose and has some wicked bruising from his chin to his forehead. Monkeys - 2, Boog - 0.
3. Now for the awkward...The Peej has these pants with a smiling monkey face on the butt. I don't know why clothing companies feel it necessary to put things on the butt of babies' pants, but it's a big thing right now. So, Pippa was wearing these the other day and laying on her tummy, monkey-side up. The Boog, walking by, monkey block in hand, spotted the monkey on PJ's butt and immediately dropped the block, smiled a big smile, leaned down and began to rub his face all over the monkey...on his sister's butt...yikes...Monkeys - 3, Boog - 0.
You see why I'm concerned. Monkeys have thus far caused the Boog to misbehave at school, injure himself, and unwittingly commit mild incest. Bad monkeys. Bad bad monkeys.