Dear Mr. Bohonkus

Well, Mr. Bohonkus, I hope that you’re properly chastened. Though, you know, I would bet that you’re not. Your bohonkishness runs pretty deep, I’d say. I’d also wager that you’re not the self-reflective type.

So, on to what happened today. I know, you thought that you were being cute when you were messing with my youngest son who was trying to get a cart outside of the Aldi. Nothing comes between that child and his cart, but of course, you were too wrapped up in being cute to notice. I never quite figured out what exactly you were angling for, but I made sure that you did indeed have a quarter so that you could procure a cart for yourself and then I took my cart (the one my youngest had already put a quarter in) and entered the store.

I must say, you gave me the heebie jeebies. One thing that I never question is my heebie jeebie meter. I pay attention when that thing goes off. But never mind. We were on track to get our shopping done in short order and with little to no drama until my oldest son spoke.

He was standing there, eyeing you, Mr. Bohonkus, holding his Spiderwick book. “Mom,” he said at full volume and pointing at you, “I don’t trust that man.” Then he looked at you again and said, straight out, “I don’t trust you.”

Well, Mr. Bohonkus, I’ll tell you, this was an interesting situation for me, and not just because my son was talking in a way that he should not to a stranger. We’re actually used to that and we’re constantly working on getting him to not verbalize what he is thinking. Oh, the stories that I have of him asking inappropriate questions and saying zany things to people. But, he has autism, after all, and sometimes (okay, most of the time) he doesn’t see the problem with being truthful. It’s odd the trouble that honesty will bring.

I’ll tell you what was so exciting to me about what he said. When he said that he didn’t trust you — well, I felt like cheering. Not because he said something inappropriate but because he is apt to be too trusting. So the fact that he picked up on your demeanor was just awesome, to me. It gives me hope for his future. If he can admit to not trusting someone at the age of 12 — let’s just say that it gives us something to build on. I don’t want him to be distrustful in general. But, I don’t need to ever worry about that because it will never happen. What I do have to worry about is him thinking that someone has all his best interests at heart just because they buy him a Coke, or something like that. So, that he got a bead on you today? I actually felt like giving him a hug or a high five — or both.

But let’s get back to your behavior. That is, after all, what this letter is about.

So, to be honest, I thought that our little conversation was over and was hoping that we could ignore each other and shop in peace. I went into the store with my boys and you followed a minute later to begin your shopping. But, as you passed us, it seemed like my son couldn’t get past the fact that he just didn’t trust you, Mr. Bohonkus, and he had to say it

one
more
time.

Then you got a little angry. You said that if my son ever came into YOUR store then you would say that you didn’t trust HIM. And, let us be clear, once again, that you are a grown man. He is a 12-year-old boy.

Now, the nice folks inside Aldi didn’t hear the exchange outside. So, they didn’t know the whole story. But, when they stood there with their mouths open and pickle jars frozen in mid-trip between shelf and basket as you shattered the shopping environment of that little establishment with your bad behavior, well, they knew enough.

They knew that you are a Mr. Bohonkus.
Yes, that they knew for sure.

But, leave it to J. If there is a Mr. Bohonkus in the room — he will find him.

You know, maybe that can be a career path for him.

I can just see the business cards now…..

J. Barlow
Detector of Bohonkutude, Extraordinaire

Sounds good to me.