I could tell Benjamin was getting edgy so I invited him to bring out the Scrabble board. Ours is the Super variety which increases the possibilities. After dishing out a fistful of letters to each of us, I waited to see if he adheres to rules about how many you start with. Apparently not. I lined up my nine tiles on the wooden rack, because they fit in a satisfying way, while he left his on the table in front of him. Stealth doesn't interest him. For a person on the spectrum he is surprisingly unattached to some of the guidelines. Or maybe it's just that he hasn't read them. 

 

There was no need to keep score. The very notion seemed as absurd as tacking a number value on the birds that flit by our windows. Some are red, others gray. Sizes are only another aspect for variety, adding nothing to their intrinsic worth. So it was with Scrabble. He started us off with a three letter word across the middle, and asked me to use it in a sentence. 

 

"When we had chickens we could go out to the coop to get an egg."

 

"Now we have to buy them from the store," he noted. 

 

We took leisurely turns, using them in conversation. I put down none early on, and he was pleased to add it again elsewhere on the board. He pointed to them, hoping I would notice. 

 

"There are two nones!" He said, enjoying the irony of it. "Dinosaurs are extinct. There are none left." He thought about Toy Story. "Rex is a paradox of a dinosaur. He is scary and scared."

 

We doubled other words... map, ten and fit. It felt like partnership.  He laid down the letters for candies, and was pleased. My sentence was about one of his favorite holidays coming up. Later he took away the ies and replaced it with y so he could play yes. Benjamin put down girl, and we chatted about those feminine influences in his life that have brought him joy. I used his i to make smile. 

 

Then he put down an s, then an e, then an x. My shoulders contracted. What now? I had provided Ben with three brothers and a father precisely so that I would not have to have these discussions. 

 

"What is your sentence?" I braced myself. He smiled hugely. 

 

"In Africa both sexes of elephants have tusks but in India only the male sex does." My shoulders released. 

 

In his pile were a q and a z. He had no awareness that in some circles placing them on colored squares is cause for self worth. He was content finding words that relate to movies in his repertoire. 

 

"Q and U stick like glue," he told me. 

 

We played until there was no more room on the board, and then shook hands. I was grateful that we could do it on his terms. So much of life demands that he follow the demands of us neurotypicals. Plus I get to find out that his way is sweet too.