You own no matching glasses. Every mug has a chip. You’ve apologised to a lamppost.
This one’s for fun, because humour is how lots of us cope. (The effort behind the jokes is still real, and both things can be true.)
House rules
Every dyspraxic household develops its own unwritten rules, mostly learned the hard way. If these sound like your home, welcome. You’re among friends.
- You own no matching glasses: They don’t survive long enough.
- Every mug has a chip: Character, you call it.
- Your shins are a map of bruises: Coffee table: 47. You: 0.
- You walked into the same door: Today. Twice.
In public
Leaving the house adds an audience, which somehow makes everything more likely to go wrong. These are the classics.
- You wave at the wrong person: Then commit to it.
- Push doors, you pull: Every. Time.
- Stairs need your full attention: No talking, please.
- You apologise to lampposts: Manners are manners.
Dinner drama
Restaurants deserve a category of their own. Some dishes are simply not designed for people like us, and experienced dyspraxics learn to order accordingly.
- Spaghetti: Wear dark colours.
- Stemmed glasses: A disaster in waiting.
- Chopsticks: Fork, please.
- Tall burgers: Structural collapse.
- Cherry tomatoes: Launch sequence started.
- Full cups: Carried like a bomb.
The translation
Over the years, you develop a whole vocabulary of phrases that sound casual and mean something else entirely. Here’s a rough translation guide.
| What I say | What I mean |
|---|---|
| “I’ll just stand over here.” | Away from anything breakable. |
| “You carry the drinks.” | I value this carpet. |
| “I’m fine!” | That really hurt, but I’m committed. |
Hidden talents
It’s not all bruises and breakages. A lifetime of minor mishaps builds some surprisingly impressive abilities.
- The lightning-fast catch: One in ten. But what a catch.
- World-class apologising: To people and furniture.
- Stain removal expert: Years of field experience.
- Laughing it off: An Olympic-level skill.
Laughing helps
A quick word about the jokes, though, because it matters.
Humour is how lots of us cope. But the effort behind the jokes is real.
We can laugh about it and still need you to take it seriously.
Both things are true.
Wrapping up
Clumsy? Maybe. Boring? Never.
Laughing about dyspraxia doesn’t mean it’s trivial. It’s one of the ways people get through the days when everything ends up on the floor. If you saw yourself in this list, you’re part of a very large and very understanding club.
Next in the series: Housework and DIY With Dyspraxia
This post is for general information and isn’t medical advice or a diagnosis. If it resonates, speak to your GP or an occupational therapist.