Sometimes I wish my son would stop talking.

It’s not the constant chatter when he’s hyper or the incessant prattling about sharks or dinosaurs or weather—which, of course, would be lovely to get a break from, too. No, what I mostly fret about is the self-destruct button he carries around in his pocket.

That kid can sabotage the sweetest of moments.

Like when he said his little brother could eat the last Oreo cookie. “You can have it. I’m sick of them and want a Chips Ahoy.” Or when he made a Rainbow Loom bracelet and offered it to his grandmother. “Here. I don’t like how those colors look. It’s ugly.” Or when he presented his dad with an awesome drawing of a dragon. “This is for you. I drew a better one after.”

Ooh…so close. At 10-years-old, you’d think he’d know tacking on that second bit is not only unnecessary, but also damaging to a good deed. Maybe it’s solely his Aspergers, maybe it’s his personality, or maybe it’s a mix.

He usually starts these unceremonious gift-giving occasions off with something of a nicety. Then he pushes the dreaded self-destruct button and drops a bomb. Once it’s out of his mouth, there’s no taking it back. It’s just hanging out there taking the sparkle off the diamond. The thing is, we can’t always know when he’ll blurt these things out. Occasionally, I beat him to the button. I’ll stop him mid-sentence to tell him that what he said was “Just perfect as is.” Zip it, buddy.

There’s a crucial point at which you stop talking.

If I offered a new pair of strappy heels to my girlfriend, I might say, “Found these online and, now that I have them, I think they’d look better on you.” I wouldn’t continue with, “They don’t fit me and you have huge feet. I look like I’m playing dress-up in my mother’s shoes.” Even if I was thinking it (which I totally wouldn’t be.)

Maybe my son’s “You can have this” isn’t the most charming sentiment, and perhaps he needs more than a little nudging to get the point that he’s perilously close to that self-destruct button but he genuinely enjoys giving. He’s showing us his feelings in a way that is comfortable for him. 

It’s going to be a while before my son understands subtle social cues. For now, we are teaching him to stop after the initial comment. We can’t provide blanket instructions because he sees each situation as unique. Eventually, when he recognizes where “the end” should be, he’ll be a superhero of gift-giving. Or at least a sidekick. 

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About the Author

Sarah Brentyn

Sarah Brentyn is a geek, a mum, and a freelance writer who loves good books and good wine. She enjoys writing fiction like those people who enjoy singing in the shower. She is a contributing writer for her local paper where she shares columns about life, kids, and whatever floats her boat. Keep up with her on her blog, .