Granddad and the GPS

Oy Vey. Notice how most of my posts start with "oy vey"? Yeah. It's my life. Where to start... Where to start..?

Most Mondays, my dad keeps The Boy for the few hours while I drive The Girl to therapy in The Big City. Today, I took them with me. Yeaaaaaah... The Boy, The Old Man, and Karen, my dad's GPS wife. (If you follow Spongebob, think of Karen, Plankton's "computer wife". Yeahhh.)

I listened to him yap for an hour and a half each way and lent him my car for two hours in between. During those two hours, he was going to take The Boy out to McDonald's and Borders while The Girl had therapy. Instead, he took The Boy to Wendy's (strike 1), followed the GPS to the Borders in the airport (strike 2), and taught The Boy a few new swear words in traffic (strike 3). When I got out, I drove them to the non-airport Borders, let The Boy puke in a trash can in the children's section of Borders, and got us all home without further swearing or hard braking.

What am I going to do? The Boy does NOT want to spend three hours in the car and two hours in the therapy center lounge. The Boy doesn't mind spending four hours with my dad here. But sometimes, my poor dad gets bored and restless, and he just wants a field trip to somewhere other than the Food Lion. But I do not want him driving my car in The Big City. And worse, I think he's not being very kind to The Boy.

Everyone with an aspie boy knows at least six people who KNOW that if they had just two weeks alone with the boy they could "straighten him out". I suspect my dad is one of those people. He talks about boot camp and military school a lot, and always chuckles. But still.

Ooh! Funny part of the day -- The Boy says that he has a brilliant idea for a new GPS voice: Grandfather voice. "Dammit! Just turn left!! Aaaah!" I also suspect this GPS would say, "You have arrived at your destination. DON'T PARK ON MY LAWN!"