We knew it would be a bumpy ride when the R.A., led by one of his teachers (captors), came out of the school building glowering furiously while simultaneously caterwauling and covering his ears. When my husband and I appeared the R.A. looked even more hacked off. If there was a speech bubble over his head it would have read, "Great. There's a tent on the front lawn when clearly there shouldn't be and it's stuffed with all these weird strangers and now these two, weirder and stranger than all the rest, arrive. What fresh hell is this?"
As it was so close to "Grandparents Day" (another Hallmark manufactured bogus holiday) the school encouraged families to invite grandparents to the picnic. My mother promptly generated three excuses as to why she could not attend. One was actually valid (Sorry, Mom, we know you do speak English, fluently, so lapsing into faux Bulgarian was a waste of time as was feigning death) so she got out of it. Unfortunately my husband's parents were not as quick with their excuses and got roped into the picnic. At least they got free meals out of it and the weather held. Happy Grandparents' Day!
Grudgingly the R.A. sat with us, intermittently yowling and scrupulously avoiding eye contact. If anyone did attempt conversation he would growl angrily or ignore the remark and energetically peer around the person as if to say, "Whatever is out there is much, much, much more interesting than you. Oh, look! A tree stump! Riveting!"
Once my husband and I determined we spent enough time "visiting" with the R.A. to satisfy school staff who were probably grading us on our interactions with our son (no doubt we failed spectacularly), we left the food tent and took the R.A. outside. The R.A.'s favorite activity at the June picnic was the bouncy houses. He so enjoyed jumping that he refused to come out of one of them when his turn was done and my husband was forced to climb inside and wrangle him out. Luckily for us it was about 100 degrees and 93 % humidity that day! Therefore, based on this past experience which indicated to us that the R.A. liked the bouncy houses, we took him to one of the bouncy houses. As we approached the bouncy house the R.A.'s bitter caterwaulings transformed into caterwauls of joy. Gleefully he removed his sneakers and in his excitement almost removed his socks and pants. The R.A. then launched himself onto the attached inflatable ramp that leads into the bouncy house. And then he stayed there, refusing to actually enter the bouncy house. The R.A. intended to spend his bouncy time on the ramp not inside the house. I don't know if he saw it as his own personal piece of bouncy real estate or suddenly had a yen for outside bouncing but the R.A. desisted entering the bouncy house. Obviously my husband and I figured it must have something to do with that particular bouncy house so we tried the two other bouncy houses. But no. The inflatable ramp preference was assigned to all the bouncy houses. My husband and I were desperate to get the R.A. inside a bouncy house as we thought (stupidly) that once we could get him inside the bouncy house he would recall that he liked it. The R.A., however, would not cross the threshold of the bouncy house entrance, firmly staying on the ramp. At one point he was crouched on all fours with his head at the entrance and I barked at my husband, "Just push him in!" I believe that the fact that we were surrounded by school staff intimidated my husband and he refused. I was so frantic that had my hands not been full of sweaters, water bottles, and the R.A.'s backpack, I would have given him a firm shove.
Much to the R.A.'s dismay we did not allow him to remain on the ramp. He was unconcerned that he was blocking the way for the other children to enter and leave the bouncy house. I guess the R.A. figured that was their problem. Finally we had to physically remove him from the bouncy area. As my husband and I tried to determine our next course of action, the R.A. yowled in fierce indignation - I believe it was something along the lines of - "How dare you, you backward flibbertygibbets! How dare you manhandle me in such an undignified fashion! Do you know who I am?!" He then grabbed my sweater, threw it on the ground and then plopped on top of it - an apparent act of vengeance against me, his bouncy ramp oppressor. It's as they say on the home planet - vengeance is a sweater best sat upon. My husband was lucky to be sweaterless and so escaped unscathed.
I then tried to distract him from his crabbiness with a sno-cone. The fact that I went the sno-cone route clearly demonstrates my high level of anxiety as the combination of the R.A. and a sno-cone is not pleasant for his caregiver. Surprisingly enough, the R.A. does not consume a sno-cone as your A-typical earthling would. For starters, he refuses to hold the sno-cone which means the parent must hold it and periodically squat down to present it to him. The R.A. then quickly darts his tongue in the sno-cone concoction and quickly withdraws his tongue. In all, after about 45 minutes, he has licked maybe 8 bits of shaved ice. At this juncture the ice has melted leaving mostly the syrup which the R.A. finds offensive. He then proceeds to order his caregiver to get the galling item out of his sight, immediately if not sooner.
Sadly, the sno-cone lacked its usual magical delight. It did not deter the R.A. from his churlishness. We moved on to the arts and crafts table. Perhaps the R.A. was feeling more introspective because as he worked on slapping stickers on a small white gourd, his yowling was not quite as surly. It was only when his work of art was completed that his rabid caterwauling resumed. Staff must have been as desperate as we were as they quickly presented another gourd for the R.A. to decorate. If the gourd art is any indication of the R.A.'s emotions, he is seriously pissed off. Really? He hides it so well! Thank the Kitchen God he has his art to express himself.
We were honestly surprised by the R.A.'s unhappiness as compared to his behavior at the June picnic. After thinking a bit I realized that my daughter had attended that picnic. Sometimes the R.A. is calmer at functions that she attends. He sees her do something and then is more inclined to also participate. I believe what happens is, she enters the breech first and if she isn't poisoned, beheaded, or made to listen to bad 70's easy listening rock music, the R.A. feels safe and will follow. She's the Odie to his Garfield.
Fortunately we only have to wait one month (exactly one month) until the school's Harvest Dance. Should the R.A.'s current sentiment regarding social functions continue at its current level, I'm guessing he will arrive with a shiv he made from a Pringles container.
