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Monday, April 6, 2009

Swim Away! Swim Away!

All those under thirty were finally in bed, and I finally had some time to myself. I went downstairs and plopped down in front of the laptop to journal the happenings of our day.

The boys have been behaving well all week, so I decided to reward them with the newly released Finding Nemo DVD. I thought some little plastic fish were also in order, since Alex is so fascinated with water play. The packages I purchased contained two clown fish, one big and one small. He could reenact Nemo in the bathtub.

I don't know what the link is with Autism and an obsession with water, but several kids on the spectrum share this enchantment.

We popped some popcorn, cuddled up next to one another on the couch, and laughed our way through the undersea adventure.

As I tucked them into bed, they each requested to sleep with their new toys. 'Sleeping with the fishes' did cross my mind, but I let them despite my twisted sense of humor.
At this point in recounting the day's events, I heard footsteps upstairs, leading to the bathroom. I thought nothing of it and continued documenting.

A few moments later, I heard the toilet flush and then more footsteps running back to bed. "Pit stop to Dreamville" I thought.

I continued writing, almost concluding the entry when I heard more footsteps making their way to the bathroom. A few moments later, the flush. However, instead of footsteps I heard a bit of commotion, so I stood at the bottom of the stairs, directing my voice upwards.

"Is everything alright up there?" I asked.

"Just had to go potty, Mommy."

"Ok, now get to bed. Goodnight."

"Ok . . . 'Nite, Mommy!"

I sat back down to express my final thoughts. Saved my work and tidied up a bit before going to dreamland myself.

That's when I heard it. Drip . . . drip . . . drip

I checked the kitchen sink. Nothing. The downstairs bathroom. Nothing. Laundry room. Still nothing.

I stood in the hallway . . . listening. It sounded like drops of water plunking into more water. I carefully tracked the sound to our hot water heater closet. I opened the door and, sure enough, there was water everywhere. We just had that replaced! How could it be broken already?

Upon further investigation, though, I found water steaming down the walls of the closet from upstairs. The bathroom! It's directly above the closet.

I rush upstairs to the boys' bathroom to find the toilet overflowing, water all over the floor and little plastic fish floating at the top of the bowl.

I panic! "OMG . . . what happened here?"

My oldest comes out of his room. "Get me some towels! HURRY!"

It never fails something like this happens right after you've washed, dried and carefully folded three loads of towels.

As Brandon and I are frantically cleaning up the mess, Alex peeks his head around the corner.

"Do you know what happened, Alex? Why are your fish in here?"

"Meemo was stuck, Mommy! I twied to hep him go home. All dwains weed to the osean."

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The next Jacques Cousteau!













9 comments:

Donna Cooper April 6, 2009 at 5:43 AM  

I know it's NOT funny when you're living it, but it sure is funny when you read about it post-event. I have an 8 year old with autism, and I can assure you our life had been "one thing after another".
Thanks for the chuckle this AM!

Fortress of Solitude April 6, 2009 at 10:14 AM  

Sometimes these guys just caught you off-gaurd with their quirkiness, and you just have to laugh out loud.

Alex is 7 years old, now. He was three at the time this story took place.

He was diagnosed with autism at 2.5 years. His twin brother, Kaleb, was diagnosed with Auditory Processing Disorder at the same time.

It has definitely been a roller coaster ride with these two. My older boys have their contributions, too.

All-in-all, though, I wouldn't trade it for the world!

Thank you for the comment. I'm off to read your blog, now. Thanks, Donna.

Angela

Fortress of Solitude April 6, 2009 at 11:55 AM  

In the comment above, "caught = catch " after the morning coffee. ;o)

Prefers Her Fantasy Life April 6, 2009 at 2:55 PM  

Your son certainly has a kind heart.

My son was diagnosed with PDD when he was three. His obsessions were fans and light switches.

I did every intervention imaginable and today he is a typical 16-year old who plays lacrosse and who recently got busted for smoking pot. I can't complain.

Carolee April 6, 2009 at 9:10 PM  

That is too funny.

My oldest flushed the dead parakeet down the toilet! He had heard of people flushing goldfish down the tiolet, why not a bird?

Queenbuv3 April 19, 2009 at 6:56 AM  

Classic! Not funny because you had a flood, but children's logic is always trying to crack up our neat controlled world. I had to laugh!

Jeannie May 4, 2009 at 8:12 PM  

"All dwains weed to the osean"

Hilarious! Have I ever told you Mr. Busypants is also an Alex. There seems to be a lot of Alex's with autism out there.

Huriya May 7, 2009 at 7:53 AM  

I just stumbled upon your blog through Jeannie's blog.
You write very well and having a son if my own on the spectrum it is heart warming to know other parents, who are going through similar process.
I am sure this incident wasn't funny when it happened but in hindsight one can appreciate your son's imagination and kind heart.
Looking forward to read more posts..
Good Luck.

Stacie June 6, 2009 at 4:02 PM  

LOL I know it's not funny. But how cute!! I would have been freaking out about the water. LOL Thank you for sharing this with me.

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Mom's Fortress of Solitude by Angela McCoy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at momsgreatescape.blogspot.com. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://momsgreatescape.blogspot.com/2009/06/contact.html.

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Angela McCoy is a freelance writer/editor, military wife and work at home mom (WAHM) to four boys with special needs. Her writing encompasses a myriad of topics -- Autism, ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder, Cystinosis, Fanconi's Syndrome, kidney transplant, and more -- influenced by her two teenagers and seven-year-old twins. She considers writing to be therapeutic and utilizes her skills to counsel and inspire her readers. Angela is a quick-witted, 'no holds barred,' tell it like it is' humorist who has learned that laughter truly is the best antidote to life's adversities.

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