You don't wanna know...

So, a couple of years ago, I'm picking up my son from high school after weight training with the football team. Teen son, we'll call him Fickle Fan for now, gets in the car and after a moment starts snickering, with this very self-amused, mischievous little grin on this face.  Fickle Fan has high-functioning autism so it's just amazing to me that he's working out with the football team (and he's accepted there!) in the first place. The wicked little grin soon leads to guffaws of laughter--infectious laughter.  "Wow, Fickle Fan," I say, pleased that he's actually happy after a day at dreaded school.  "What's so funny?"  He looks at me, and for a minute this "Oh, no, my mom is here with me" expression appears on his face.  He looks down at his lap and then says with this delightedly guilty look, "You don't wanna know, Mom."  


I obviously had several choices there.  As the parent of a teen with special needs and, especially one with a developmental disability and a social delay, I'm used to knowing all:  what's up, what's down, what's the matter, what's for dinner.  But he's an adolescent now.  Fifteen-year-old boys are just not the I-need-to-rush-home-and-share-this-with-my-mom types. And that's not only okay, it's a good thing.  


So though I'm thinking, "Uh oh!  What disgusting piece of teen trashiness did he overhear in the weight room?"  I laugh, and give him the moment.  "You're right, Fickle Fan, I probably don't want to know."  ...and I celebrate--his inclusion, his independence, his adolescence.


As a family, we are, after all...moving on.