Every time I start to think Thing One is vaguely normal, she demonstrates just why she got landed with the ASD label.
T’other day we parked our car outside a neighbour’s house. Maybe “neighbour” is a bit of a stretch but they do technically live on the same street even if they do live at the other end of it. Thing One glanced at the house.
“That’s 13” she stated. I glanced over. No, it isn’t. It’s 48.
“Not the house number. Just the number!” she sighed.
I obviously looked confused.
“This is a 13. That’s a 12. We live in an 11. That’s a 12, and that one, that one over there is a 13, this one is just a 9….
She has categorized... and memorised… every house in the street. According to the number of visible panes of glass.
And just to prove to us that she isn’t weird, she later admitted to counting:
1. The number of door handle screws in the house.
2. How many patterns in the wallpaper.
3. How many indents in the radiator.
4. The raised bumps on the bathroom stool.
5. The dots on our placemats.
6. The colours in her bedroom (She can’t match Phoebe’s 66…)
At least now I don’t just think she is a bit strange.