YouWHATogist ?!

My husband and I are discussing the idea of sleeping in his own room with my son, who remains reticent. He still refuses, amidst tears and wails and near seizures, to sleep in a room I am not currently in. Such is the joy of the irrational fear caused by separation anxiety in my autistic son. We are discussing a plan to get him sleeping by himself beginning in March. He needs that much time to get used to the idea. You won't get this if you do not have an autistic child.

Me: Son, you'll be fine. We sleep in the house every night and no one ever gets hurt. The girls sleep in their own rooms and they are always fine all night long. You will be too.

My son is, to be kind, adamant that this is not a good idea. My husband wishes for headphones. Earmuffs. His head in an oven.

Me: Sweetie, I'll make you a deal. For every night you can sleep in a different room from me, I'll get you a pack of Yu-Gi-Oh cards. If you go a whole week, you can pick out a big Lego set!

My son, to be kind, remains adamant that this is perhaps not a good time to be discussing this, though he certainly appreciates the offer. Other drivers are slowing down as they pass us, looking to see what is making our car bounce up and down.

Me: Honey, you'll be fine...wow...that's a really great shade of purple you just turned! Way to go, big guy! Ok, ok...we'll talk about it another time, but trust me. You're 12 and soon enough you're going to be WANTING your own privacy.

My son, having stomped the idea down once again, purrs contentedly in the back seat.

Husband: (whispering) you know, it's probably just a matter of weeks before he starts having those kinds of dreams...

Me: I know, I know. I'll worry about that when it happens. (whispering back) I've tried asking if anything has happened yet, asking if he has had any accidents at night, but he says no.
Son: (who apparently has no hearing deficeits) Of COURSE I don't have accidents anymore!

This reminds me of his upcoming visit to the urologist. I am worried that my son's foreskin is not retracting properly and have scheduled a visit to the doctor, just to be certain. I have been told that it is possible the foreskin will have to be removed. This seems, for reasons that now escape me, a good time to broach the subject.

Me: By the way, I got authorization for you to visit the urologist.
Son: The youWHATogist?
Me: Urologist.
Son: What's THAT? !
Me: A penis doctor.

My son is quiet, except for the choking sounds.

Me: He just wants to check your penis and make sure the foreskin is ok, sweetie. It's no big deal.
Son: It's FINE! !
Me: There was some concern at your last physical. It's probably nothing, but (very fast and quiet) they may have to remove the foreskin. No big deal, just a band aid and you're fine.

I slink into my chair and try to get invisible as my husband squirms in his seat, attempting to cross his legs and work the clutch at the same time.

Son: Let me get this straight. You want a MAN to look at my thingy thing?
Me: He's a DOCTOR, K. He's a doctor who makes sure that penises stay healthy and that you can pee alright and it's his job. I'll be right there so you won't have to worry.
Son: Can't I get a woman doctor?

My husband and I look at each other, astonished.

Son: I would just feel more comfortable if it were a woman.

(I have no idea what to say to this. My daughters and I always try to get a woman, my husband always tries to get a man. I assumed my son would be more comfortable with a man. What the fuck is this shit? If this has anything to do with his sisters putting their pants and lipstick on him the other day, I'm going to ground them both, I swear to god.)

Me: No, you're stuck with a man. But I'll be right there, so I promise you will be fine.
Son: Ok, but if he tries anything funny, I'm going to kick him.

My husband and I both laugh.

Me: He won't try anything. You'll be fine. For heaven's sake, K.
Son: Why do they call him a yourologist when he works on penises? Shouldn't he be a thingyologist? Can I call the girls and tell them about this? !
Husband: They call him a urologist because he's from Uranus, K.

As I try to hit my husband as hard as possible without my son noticing, I pray he doesn't repeat that one at school.