Congratulations, you must be very proud

Louise, Donna and I are sitting in the break room at work [names have been changed to protect the innocent].

Louise announces that her son, Robert, will be receiving an award at some sort of school function on Thursday night.

The thing is, it is (at the time) a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, and Robert has only been in kindergarten since late August.  As a properly trained scientist, dedicated to spotting anomalies and solving problems, I wonder what this child could have accomplished in the first two and a half months of his academic career that would merit some sort of individual award.

"What can Robert have accomplished," I say, "in the first two and a half months of his academic career that would merit some sort of individual award?  Did he write an opera?  Did he design a new kind of super-efficient high band-pass filter?  Just how good can his macaroni rocket ship be?"

"Is it possible," as I conclude my observation, "that every student will be receiving some sort of award this Thursday?"

Donna is looking at me as though I have just torn the head off of a Cabbage Patch doll - a behavior of which she had previously not thought me capable.

Louise is looking at me as though she has decided to see if there is something to telekinesis after all, and is attempting to set me on fire using only the power of her mind.

I'm sitting there, wondering why Donna and Louise are looking at me like that.

After a second or two, Clark, our boss, walks into the break room.  Clark notices that something has happened, but knows not what.

Karen says "Hey, Clark, Louise says that Robert will be receiving an award at school this Thursday."

"Congratulations!  You must be very proud," Clark says, as he gently pats Louise on her shoulder.

OH!  That's what I SHOULD have said!  "Congratulations, you must be very proud."  Yes, that's way better than what I said.  It's even true.  She must be very proud, or she wouldn't have mentioned it.  I have to remember that.  I should practice it when I get home.  Congratulations, you must be very proud.  Congratulations you must be very proud.  Congratulations, you must be very proud.

Sometime in the following week, after Louise had resumed speaking with me, she said that, yes, every single student in the class had received some sort of award that night.

"Congratulations," I say, "you must be very proud."

"Geez, Jim," she says, "you must be some kind of autistic 'tard of some kind."

Evidently I still have work to do.