Incase any of you weren’t aware … Robbie likes to control things.

Apparently it’s a typically autistic trait. Where the world around an autistic person can seem chaotic, having the control helps your autistic to feel secure.

I’d like to put this down to the autism, but to be fair, I think Robbie can see how scatty I am and he tries to keep me in check.

In the car, sitting in traffic, I momentarily removed my hand from the wheel to itch my face.

Robbie, from his seat next to me, (yes, of course he sits in the front) says in a deadpan voice: “You need to take the wheel more.”

“Robbie, I’m scratching my face. While we’re not moving. It’s fine.”

We start moving.

Silence.

“Why are you going at 33 miles per hour then?”

“What’s the speed limit on this road? I can’t see a sign.” (Re-reading this before I post, I saw that this could be taken as myself asking this. No, it’s the 7 year old.)

I take this moment to teach Robbie that if it is a residential road with streetlights, we can safely assume that it’s 30 miles per hour.

“Why are you going 33 miles per hour then?”

Yes, I got defensive.

“I’m not! It’s the angle you’re sitting at!”

Robbie cranes his neck, positively brimming with suspicion. I slightly brake, so as not to be caught. By him.

“No, you’re breaking the speed limit of 30 miles per hour. Daddy says you drive too fast because you always break the speed limit.”

I’m not proud of this next bit.

“Yeah? Well Daddy got actually CAUGHT speeding years ago! He got TOLD OFF BY THE POLICE! Mummy hasn’t!”

Robbie chews this over.

“Please don’t ever tell me that, ever, ever, again.”

We approach a roundabout. Robbie knows where we are going.

He leans over and puts my indicator on.