My son has a wicked sense of humour. By wicked I mean he enjoys the discomfort of others and he loves watching people get angry or surprised, so long as they are not angry at him.
For a boy who doesn’t like surprises or loud noises himself, he’s quite happy to make me squeal when he’s attacking me with pokes and tickles. He likes to jump out at me like Cato in the Pink Panther and make me shriek. He sniggers to himself when something goes wrong and we’re inconvenienced. Tonight the husband was playing on the games console and getting killed quite a lot. There were some muttered and not so muttered swears, some angry outbursts and a bit of huffing and puffing, the standard gamer response to a difficult game. Thomas was watching because he wanted to see what happened at the end of the game but also because watching Dad struggle was funny. Every time Dad got killed, he snickered to himself. Every outburst brought muffled laughter as Tom covered his mouth or buried his head under the sofa cushion. He couldn’t get enough of poor old Dad’s fails and irritation.
He hates getting killed himself and if he can’t get past a certain level we all know about it from the moaning and tears of frustration so perhaps it’s a case of schadenfreude: he knows how it feels and he’s glad it’s not him this time. Who says autistic children don’t have empathy? That said, this little devil may have empathy but he doesn’t have any sympathy. He was quite happy to enjoy the show. Laugh it up, son. You won’t be so amused next time you get stuck and Dad starts laughing…..
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