The Kitchen God

The R.A. is not really a church going man.  It's not for lack of trying or even because he doesn't like it.  It's more his interpretation of appropriate church behavior and the congregation's interpretation of appropriate church behavior are extremely different.  Like at the playground, we don't have loads of friends at church.  It's yet another place that when people see us coming they sigh loudly or try to move somewhere else without looking like they are trying to move somewhere else and that it's because of us.  It's awkward for everyone.  I often want to reassure them and tell them I don't blame them and if I could sit somewhere else I would (but my husband won't let me - I know, I've tried.)

The R.A. doesn't have lots of verbal language skills.  But every once in a while he says something surprising - such as the time my family was scootching into the pew at church.  The R.A. was standing on the seat.  He turned to the people behind him and said, very very clearly, "Oh, sh#*!"  Twice.  It took him months to master "kwakah" (cracker) but he nailed sh#* on his first attempt.  Being the stellar parents that we are, my husband and I didn't look at the R.A. or even at each other, pretending we didn't hear the R.A.  But we all heard him.  I bet they heard it clear as a bell up in the choir loft - at the church further down the road.

Then there was the time at church when the priest was thanking the congregation for their prayers for his father who had recently had surgery.  For some reason the R.A. found this incredibly amusing and broke into hysterical laughter.  The more the priest talked about his father's condition the more the R.A. laughed. Did you hear the one about the father's father?  Hilarious! 

He loves music, even church music.  But once the final notes of the opening hymn start to fade, the R.A. is ready for some new entertainment.  Being someone who believes in taking the old bull by the horns, the R.A. doesn't mind providing it himself.  To start off, he looks within the pew for some pleasant diversion.  The R.A. very much enjoys walking across the pews, regardless of people already sitting in them.  His family doesn't mind leaning forward and sitting perched on the edge of the seat and getting punched in the back but unfortunately other parishioners sharing the pew are not as keen about sitting like that (I know.  What's up with that?  Unreasonable, right?)  After several wrestling matches involving the R.A., my husband, and myself where we attempt to prevent the R.A. from pew walking, the R.A. now looks elsewhere for amusement.  So he bolts out of the pew with my husband in hot pursuit.  The R.A. finds this hilarious.  He laughs upon pew re-entry, probably thinking, "You should see your faces!  Look at the big man.  Could his face be any redder?  A riot!  Good times.  Good times indeed."  My husband doesn't look quite as jolly.  One time the R.A. engaged in an Olympic worthy bolt, really challenging himself.  He didn't just bolt down the aisle - he bolted down the aisle, through the back lobby, shoved past the organist, out the door, down the church steps (of which there were many as the church is a Gothic design - I told you he outdid himself.  It's like he's preparing for some sort of Autism Iron Man competition), to the sidewalk.  For a big man my husband has a lot of hustle and managed to grab the R.A. just before he hit the street.  Since that day, except for holidays, the R.A. has been on church sabbatical and my husband and I take turns bringing our daughter or as we fondly refer to her "our little neo-pagan" (she thinks the R.A. is lucky to have autism because he doesn't have to go to church - "What a gyp!")

But don't assume that the R.A. is not a spiritual man.  He worships at home.

In our kitchen is a small bookcase in which various cookbooks are kept.  Recently the bookcase has become extremely interesting to the R.A., this interest illustrated by his jumping up and down in front of it and flicking the cookbooks with his fingers while making noises that sound like chanting.  He will do this for a bit and then stop and then start up again.  To me it looks like he is worshipping at some sort of Betty Crocker shrine.  The repetitive jumping, flicking, and chanting are like some sort of religious ritual.  I do think it's fascinating that the R.A.'s shrine of choice involves cookbooks considering due to his food allergies and food texture issues he wouldn't eat at least 99.9% of any of the recipes that were in the cookbooks.  I guess like any true religion, his is also full of conundrums.  I'm dying to see if the R.A. starts leaving offerings to his kitchen god - lollipops and bits of Pringles, maybe a Thomas train.  All I know is I hope he's saying a few prayers for me.  It certainly couldn't hurt.