The kids and I have been watchng Doc Martin (BBC) religiously, two episodes per night over the past week. We are addicted to this ornery ex-surgeon, now local GP for a sleepy Cornwall seaside town. Anjali asks if we’re watching Mister Doctor (she can’t seem to remember the name of the show, but I love her twist.)
Nik loves it too, and will turn off his ipad if I have the show on. The other night, we were on the couch, the three of us, watching Doc be his trademark rude self to some poor villager and Nik said, “He’s really rude and mean, isn’t he?”
Me: “Yeah, he certainly is!”
Nik, after a few moments, “Why is he so mean?”
Me: “He just doesn’t see the need to be nice. He’s a very good doctor, and he thinks that is enough. And that everyone should welcome him and tolerate his meanness. I also don’t think he realizes he’s being mean.”
Nik: “Maybe he should go to a class where they can teach him to blend in better.”
And there, right there, I felt everything come full circle.
Remembering all the social skills classes, all the behavioral interventions, the years of working with this child, trying to show him how to read social cues, interact well with others…hearing this boy offer up a solution for what may have, but for the grace of god and all the therapists, been him one day… I hugged him close to my side, kissed the top of his head and said, “Yeah, I hope they help him do that soon.”