I often go to cuddle my boy only to find he's almost my height and sooooo not going to accept a hug from his mother in public.
Where did my little boy go?
He's disappeared overnight, from a cheeky chappie trying to fit in and exploring this thing called humour to an almost gangling youth almost nailing jokes and funny stories after much practice in his head and on we his parents.
Humour is such an individual thing and almost impossible to explain to someone on the Spectrum.
It's one of the Intangibles, one of the airy-fairy will 'o' the wisp emotions that defies science by just being.
So many times he repeated, parrot fashion, the jokes and puns he heard others saying, not understanding the necessary inflections needed in his voice or the important pause before delivering the punchlines.
Pointing these out to him gave him another focus, something to hunt for, the proverbial needle in the haystack to learn to mimic an emotion until it became second nature.
The old British sit-coms are his favourites, the likes of On The Buses, Keeping Up Appearances, The Goodies, Dad's Army, etc. I don't know whether it's because the humour involved a great deal of facial expressions to convey the depth of feeling to the audience (thereby giving visual clues to those on the Spectrum) or the simplicity in the style of humour or the laugh track but these appeal to him over most current comedies.
Sometimes even the Australian comedy goes over his head, the dead-pan expressionless face and dry humour delievered in a droll, laconic manner giving no hint as to the punchline, the intended point at which one should laugh.
Mother and Son, on the other hand, is perfect for him.
The slow, relaxed pace of the show gives him the measure of comfort, the wherewithal to enjoy each episode without sitting on the edge of his seat worrying what will happen next, missing antics in the growing anxiety of what is about to happen?
And he just loves Blackadder.