Huh?

The night I told my son about his condition turned out to be one of the funniest exchanges we have ever had. Thank goodness, because it could have been a complete disaster. He was in a rotten mood and stormed out of the kitchen saying, "You're not going to be my mom any more." This has become his weapon to make me feel bad when I won't let him have his way. The rest of the conversation went something like this:

Me: Oh, yeah?
Ian: Yeah!
Me: Really? You think so?
Ian: Yeah!
Me: Well, I don't think so. Anyone who would go through the pain of having a tattoo of you put on her body gets to be your mother forever! So there!
Ian: Huh?
Me: Yes, that's right. My tattoo is of YOU!
Ian: It is? Cool! Let me see it again.

For the next few minutes I explained to Ian that for several years we knew there was something different about him, but we couldn't figure out what it was. We knew he was very smart, but he had a hard time understanding how to act around other people. Sometimes, he got overwhelmed by noises and lights and other things that didn't bother other people. He would get frustrated because he couldn't tell us how he felt.

Me: Then one day a doctor figured it out and told us you have Asperger's Syndrome.
Ian: Hamburgers and onions?
Me: (laughing) No, Asperger's Syndrome.
Ian: Asper...asper...asper...what?
Me: Asperger's Syndrome. It means you think and feel things differently from other people. It doesn't mean anything other than that. You are still the coolest kid I know.
Ian: Yeah, you're right. I am pretty cool.

And that was it.