Top Gear

Fellow parents of ASD children will know about all encompassing obsessions.

This can be in the form of a physical tic, inanimate objects, ordering, television programmes, films and many, many others.

The Boy's obsessions have always revolved around a programme, expanding to toys, books, magazines, related paraphenalia etc.  This has been a relief, if an expensive one, as it means that we have a starting point to teach him things, something to draw him in and encourage him to learn.  Oh, the hours I have spent cobbling together Bob the Builder maths and Thomas the Tank Engine literacy lessons, but still.

Currently, Top Gear is the name of the game, and The Boy has decided that he is Clarkson.

Yes, that's right; The Boy has decided that he is Jeremy Clarkson, who is possibly the very anti-Mummy.  On the plus side, Lid is Hammond, Daddy is James and Mummy, rather superbly, gets to be The Stig.  We'll ignore that I can't drive; we'll focus on the fact The Boy has clearly observed that I can push that buggy of Lid's faster than the fastest bastard and piggy back the fuck out of Jenson Button (or Benjamin Button for that matter).

Today, we are taking a leisurely Mummy and The Boy stroll, before setting off to take a DLR tour.

As we make a change and start to trot towards a canal, The Boy spies a car.

"Mummy, Mummy look! It's the Bugatti Vera!"

"Do you mean the Bugatti Veyron, son?"

"Yeah, yeah, look Mummy, look!"

He gesticulates wildly at a silver car making a slow turn in the road.

"Er, that's a Ford Fiesta son."

One imagines his knowledge of car types may take a little effort and encouragement...