Raising Austin

"Austin, let me have the gum, please."

"Jesus [expletive]," he mutters.

"I don't know if you are showing off for our guest," Jeanne says, referring to me this morning, on my second of what will be more than a dozen lengthy visits over two months.

"I'm showing my [expletive]," he says, raising his voice. "Yo! Gonna party!"

"Okay, Austin," Jeanne says sharply. "Forget the next time you want a piece of candy. Forget it." While hurriedly herding the children into winter coats, shoes and hats, Jeanne tries to calmly draw a lesson for Austin from his Level 5 disappointment. "You can't come in on a Friday and expect to pull it out for the week," she says.

"I hate them," Austin mutters. "I'm gonna call my teachers the baddest word I know."

The Harples straggle out to the minivan, and Austin continues taunting Maddie. "Can I kill you?" he says. Madison, a round-faced, giggly second-grader, has a milder attention-deficit problem, but unlike her brother, she has a steadily sunny disposition and plenty of friends. Often, though not always, she ignores his teasing.

"Yo! Yo! I'm gonna kill you," Austin tells Maddie.

"AUSTIN RAY!" Jeanne snaps at him. "I'd stop with that, Austin. That's enough!" He climbs into the van and remains quiet for the mile-long ride to Nottingham Elementary. At 8:57, they reach the "Kiss and Learn" drop-off sign at the front curb. Jeanne leans over and kisses Austin as he steps out. She says, "I love you. Have a good day." Most days Austin will say, "Love you, too," but today he just bails.

After dropping Maddie at her separate portable classroom, Jeanne steers her white minivan back home. "Today was actually a good morning," she tells me. "It was really pretty good. Normally he will curse, but it wasn't too bad." She glances at me, seeming to assess my reaction.

As a baby, Austin was so mellow, so contented, that Jeanne used to call him "my little old man." He was healthy and sweet at birth, blond, eight pounds, and 20 1/4 inches long. As he grew, he was curious, cuddly and rarely cried. He was such an easy baby that Chuck and Jeanne took Austin on vacation to Italy when he was only 16 months.

Chuck used to brag about his son, especially about his apparent gentleness and compassion. Austin would often ask sensitive questions about handicapped kids or homeless people, and, as he got older, would plead with his parents to give them money.