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Saturday, July 16, 2011

The Merry Chase

Yesterday was just one of those days. I should have seen it coming when our older son awoke with that ornery glint in his eyes.

"Helloooooo!" I heard early in the afternoon. The greeting took me by suprise. I looked outside to find the general bus aide standing on my walkway. The bus had arrived early.

"He ran away," she said when I opened the door.

All these thoughts ran through my mind. What? In which direction?! How did he get away from you all? WEREN'T YOU WATCHING HIM?!

I'm about to have someone's head on a platter. But, first, I've got to find that child!
Running off in the direction the aide saw our son take, I remembered the last time he ran off the bus. He made it two houses down from ours, ran past the horrified owners who were enjoying quiet time on their patio and into their home. Having spent much of my time behind locked doors and in therapy, I'm ashamed to say that I don't even know these people.

Now, just how do I run into someone's home if I haven't even introduced myself?

Rushed and embarrassed, I blurted out my name and that our son suffered from autism and ran right past them and into their home. If they had scissors out, he was likely to cut any fabric he sees...after he cuts his eyelashes and hair. Poer cords could be snipped. Good golly, all sorts of potential destruction was running through my mind.

None of them happened. We found him on the second floor with their vacuum. The cord was intact and plugged in, our son rest to test drive.

Did he run for the same destination this time? Or, did he walk into my next door neighbor's house to find her vacuum in her basement. He did that once before as well.

Neither option had happened. I found him much to my relief at the side of the house. He found the air conditioner and was mezmorized. His temporary bus aide stood beside him, looking like he was about to vomit.

I knew when I saw the new summer aides that our son could eat them for lunch. Apparantly, our son realized that as well. Sigh. How I love his ornery side, but, oh, how it runs me ragged!

Once safely inside, I had hoped he would quietly but proudly walk up to his room to relax and savor the taste of victory over the bus staff. However, the lure of that air conditioner fan was too great. He HAD to get to that fan!

Thinking he could ditch me, he casually walked into his vacuum room and closed the door. However, nothing good comes of our son behind a closed door. Ever.

I followed him, finding him attempting to open one of the windows. Just last week, this window lead to his first escape in a while. It is one of the last few in the house unalarmed, and he unlockled the window, jumped onto the screened in porch, ripped open the screen and made his escape. My husband found him in the gazebo of a neighbor's house. Our son introduced us to these neighbors when he ran to their house and tried to duck inside when we caught up to him. Little did they know when that put in that gazebo that a child with autism would move in down the street and think that it looks like a carousel.

I shooed him out of the window and vacuum room, and he immediately ran outside. SHOOT! The screened in porch has an outside entrance, and I raced after I'm to keep him from jumping through the torn screen.

YELLING AT HIM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS JUST LIKE THIS, I managed to get him back inside. Back to the window he went, and I was spitting fire! I grabbed a hammer and nail, marchred into that vacuum room and nailed the window shut.

Take that, kid!

It was while I was walking out of the vacuum room, savoring the victory over this chaotic battle of wills that I noticed him standing on the dining table in order to jump out of a small, high window beside of it.

Are you kidding me? Where does the kid get his stamina???

"GET OFF OF THAT TABLE AND CALM YOUSELF!" I yelled, angry at the smile on his face. This kid is an adrenaline junkie. However, he obliged.

Down from the table he jumped and immediately ran for the back yard once more, only this time he locked himself on the porch! I could see him standing on the ledge by the hole in the screen, and I was locked away from going in there to prevent it.

I don't know which prompted him to unlock the door: my threat of bodily harm or of my taking away his red dirt devil upright. Either way, the chase was back on.

By this time, our res-hab worker arrived, a wonderful person who we all really like. I'm not sure she's had many days with our older son when he is in true form. This day would be her first.

I do not feel guilty. I do not feel guilty. I do not feel guilty.

This was my chant as I happily allowed for a change of the guards, hoping she wouldn't quit us immediately after.

She was locked out of the porch. He managed an escape over the fence, had a blow out accident in his pants (and down his leg) as well as paced the entire back yard for a solid hour before he decided he'd had enough.

Three and a half hours after it began, the merry chase ended, and our son grabbed a bowlf rice and sat down to eat it with a very content look on his face.

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