Let me ‘splain.
Lily, our 74-pound, tall and skinny black lab, waits in Joey’s room, across the hall, in the dark, her eyes looking like shiny golden marbles in the dim light, staring at me, until I come in and “Oh.” “Oh” means to move his scattered pillows from all over his bed to a place near his head, then lug his very heavy (to me!), weighted-blanket and gently place it from his neck to over his feet, patting every inch to apply the deep-pressure that his autistic bones crave. When I do this, ever since he was a baby and I comforted him, I have always involuntarily said “Oh.”
So, at some point in Joey’s life, when it was time to go to bed Joey would say “Do you want to ‘Oh?'”
Last night, Lily noticed that Joey was ready to “Oh.” I glanced over and saw her marble eyes in the dark and quietly walked into Joey’s room and asked, “Are you ready to Oh?” I arranged the bed and covered him. I asked him “Are you Oh?”
“Yest.” (No, that is not misspelled.)
I smiled. Good. A small “cross” on the forehead and “God Bless you and keep you safe through the night.” I could see his white teeth (thank-goodness for electric toothbrushes and modern toothpaste!) in the dim light.
I looked briefly at him, feeling complete, or so I thought, until he said, “I love you Miz Ami.” That was beyond complete.
This should be the end, but for fun, I will explain. When Joey went to school, everyone’s name began with Mr. or Mrs. So Mommy and Daddy, he assumed would be fun to say with “Mr. and Mrs.” I became Mrs. Mommy. Joey likes to play with words. Hence, Mrs. Mommy became, Miz Ami, or Mizami. To which he just chose to add “I love you.”