Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Origins of Skeletor: My Child is Not Ted Bundy

     So, once upon a time, there was this girl who thought it would be a super amazeballs idea to join the army even though she was the mother of small kids.  I know, she's clearly deranged.  Anyways, her husband was also in the military and was quite supportive of the girl's aspirations.  Thusly, she went and kicked all kinds of ass at being in basic training and, pretty much, life in general.  When she got home from all her high speed medic training, she was almost immediately sent to New Jersey in the dead of winter to prepare for a tour in Iraq.  (Don't worry.  She didn't understand why she was mobilizing for the desert while in New Jersey, either.) 
     Cut to one year later.  The girl comes home from the desert.  She's kind of tan, a little skinnier, and there's sand in EVERYTHING.  She knows that things are going to be difficult with her children.  The army briefed her to death on it.  However, all those briefs didn't mean bupkiss until she was actually standing face to face with the blank, staring faces of her loving ambivalent kids.  Long story short, they quickly came around, and loved their mommy, and everything was peachy.  Except for the little one. 
     The little one, Skeletor, was just a wee, little baby when his mommy left.  He was about two and a half when she returned.  So, she attributed his complete lack of engagement with her to the fact that he just didn't remember who she was.  That's also what she blamed on his violent fits of rage.  She didn't think anything about his obsession with skeletons because, let's be real, skeletons and bones and such are awesome.  It wasn't until his daycare teacher pointed out he didn't know anyone in the class by name or ever play or talk to any of the other children, that the mommy admitted something was wrong.  They spent nearly two years bouncing around from one doctor to another until finally they found one who would listen.  Unfortunately, while he agreed with the probable diagnosis of autism, he also inadvertently aligned Skeletor with a serial killer.
     As Skeletor and his mother were leaving from their appointment with this child psychologist, the man warned our heroine that she must be very careful with her son around animals.  He said because Skeletor was so fascinated with bones, that it wouldn't be unusual for him to want to take them apart.  TAKE APART THE ANIMALS.  "Um, exsqueeze me?" said the girl.  "Isn't that how sociopaths start out?  Are you saying my son is a sociopath?  He's four!  Are you saying he's like Ted Bundy?  Is that what you're saying?  I mean I know he's handsome like Bundy, but that's where I draw the line in the comparison.  You're crazy!  And stupid!  You wanna fight?!"
     Luckily, that was the last time the girl and Skeletor ever saw that man.  They went to a doctor who was very understanding and did not liken Skeletor's obsessions to that of a serial killing monster's.  They are now just a few weeks away from their appointment at a Pediatric Developmental Disorder clinic.  Hopefully (and probably), nobody there will accuse Skeletor of such homicidal tendencies.  Or else, his mommy may have to cut somebody.


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