Say Ahhhh

What a glorious day at the ball game! We headed out of town last night in order to be at the tournament's first bright and early game at 8:00 a.m. Our travels went well, our hotel is nice, and game-wise we are one for one.

During the first game Steve walked the dog around quite a bit, found some stray baseballs which he brought back to the dugout, and actually sat to watch our son play. Our dog remained calm and well behaved, our son had great hits and a couple of RBIs, and I was able to sit in the sunshine all day.

But I am now sitting here going “Ahhhh” and wondering just how old my hubby really is.

For some reason he has decided that each time he comes into a room it would be funny for him to emit an obnoxiously loud belch. He even did it when he came down into the pool area tonight, where it echoed long and loud. He giggled like a little kid; even seemed proud of himself.

Really Steve?

Ahhhh. An adult Aspie. Silliness abounds.

I tried to explain to the Hubster that belching at us was not really funny. “What happens when someone makes a joke around others?” I ask. “What reaction do other people express?”

“Ahhhh,” replies Hubster, “Ummmm, ahhhh…”

I could let him puzzle it out a while longer, but decided to end his befuddlement.

“Laughter, dear,” I replied. “People laugh at humor. If you tell a ‘joke’ and no one laughs, it’s a pretty good sign that it wasn’t funny. If you continue walking into rooms and belching at people, and they don’t laugh, take it as a very good indication that it isn’t funny.”

“Oh,” says husband. He still looks bewildered. “But everyone laughed when so-and-so did that on that show last night.”

Ahhhh. Sitcom imitation. Just what one needs to break into standup comedy.

“Don’t you like your job, Sweetie?” I query.

“Ahhhh,” replies Sweetie, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you seem to be trying to figure out how to break into show business.” I say.

“Ahhhh,” he responds. “Maybe I shouldn’t belch like that.”

Ahhhh. He got it! Let’s see if he can remember that tomorrow.