Musical Chairs on Christmas Day

Yesterday, Pip broke another dining chair. That brings his total up to four and leaves us one dining chair short on Christmas Day.

This time, I knew the chair was broken and had been nursing it for weeks, so it wasn't too much of a shock. He stood on it, so it was and accident, besides it is weeks since the Great Chair Breaking Fest and I've got over it now.

It started off insignificantly enough, with an old chair, which could have broken for any reason. I wasn't unduly suspicious and my major concern was the fact that he was chewing the leg, which was varnished. The next one broke soon after. Within a week, I had four chairs glued and braced.

It was only when I caught Pip pulling a leg off, balancing on the remaining three, chewing the fourth leg and working on the computer that it finally twigged what was happening. I confronted him and he moaned that he had to chew the chair because I wouldn't feed him. Ella was on the phone to me and could hear the conversation. 'What's he doing?' she asked. 'Oh, it's ok, I've just discovered what happened to the chairs, he pulls the legs off and chews them because he is hungry.' There was silence on the other end of the phone, then that huge, warm belly laugh I love in Ella.

The fact is that Ella understands where we are coming from. Her sons have Asperger's (and probably a handful of other problems) and she is used to the behaviour, the eccentricities and the confusion which the Asperger's causes. We take it in turns to marvel over each other's problems, laughing at the surreal environments we live in. We discuss the response of 'normal' mothers, the ones who worry and fuss about homework, clothes, the state of the house and what the neighbours think. We joke about our shame, the reality of living with boys who are disturbed, who frighten people and who live in a closed, frightening world. Most of all, we don't judge each other. She knows that I am just a normal mother, in an abnormal situation, trying to make sense of the enigma which is my son. I offer the same safe haven.

In the meantime, a spot of glue and some strong twine should save us from hot-seating on Christmas Day.