Two minutes on Tuesday

I didn't watch for two minutes.

Ben was happily riding his trike in our front yard.  It's fenced in, so I thought he was safe. I filled a batch of ice trays and knelt down to put them carefully in the freezer.  I couldn't see out the front window for about two minutes.

When I stood up, I saw right away that the front gate was open, and Ben was nowhere in sight.  My adrenal gland clenched into a fist and I ran out the front door on red alert.  

I did a 360 and didn't see him.  I loped down the street as fast as I could go - kid on trike always prefers to go downhill.  I could see a pretty far piece and there was no Ben in sight.

After a block or so, a woman on a bike hollered (politely) from across the street:  "Are you looking for someone?"
Me, panicky: "Yes!  A boy on a trike?!"
Her, helpful and neighborly:  "I haven't seen him."

I ran for another couple of blocks, checking down side streets, before I decided I'd be better off going back for my car.  The possible options for how he might have gone were expanding with every heartbeat.

I turned and huffed back up the hill.  After only a block or so, the aforementioned woman-on-a-bike shouted to me, "Your son is in your driveway, and my daughter is with him!"

Immediately relieved, I waved and chugged on up the hill.  Looking ahead, I could see a young lady on a bike, standing guard with a very determined stance.  Nobody was getting past her.

My adrenal system shut down like a 50 year old sprinkler system...thunk.  Asthma kicked in, and breathing got difficult.  I gave the girl a husky-voiced thanks, picked up Ben, and stalked inside our house, locking the inside-keyed deadbolt before beginning the search for an inhaler.

After a short, but motivated hunt, I found one and breathing got easier.  Ben was now swinging on the swing set in our backyard.  The mother and daughter who had helped us were not in sight.  I'd missed my chance to really thank them and let them know how much their help meant.

Ben isn't alone in his tendency to wander.  Almost half of kids with autism are prone to wandering.  We were lucky this time, as we have been with previous incidents.

We've taken a number of steps to prevent wandering in our own family, but we need to do more and we will.

Tomorrow, I'm meeting with our Utah senators to encourage them to support Avonte's law.  It seems to me to be a common sense way to combat wandering.  Avonte's story is a tragic one, but this law would help prevent it from being repeated.

To learn more about wandering, visit AWAARE.

Adventure Time

"Are you looking for a boy?"

Those words were sweet relief.  I'd only been looking for a couple of minutes, but every moment since we realized Ben was missing had been filled with adrenaline.

I had been finishing dinner, Bubba was playing a game, and Lovely Wife was upstairs getting ready for the opening reception of the Utah state bar convention.  I thought Ben was headed up to pester his mom, but instead, he squeezed passed the obstacles I'd placed in the hall and slipped quietly out the front door with his truck.

The part of my brain that monitors such things was expecting to hear some exclamations from my wife - something like "No!  Put the make-up down!"  It informed the rest of my brain that it was time to put the pizza down.

"Bubba - see if you can find Ben - quick!"  He hopped up and dashed upstairs, returning quickly after searching all three levels of the condo.  "He's not here!"  Without prompting, he rushed outside to look for his little brother.  I grabbed my phone and went to join him.  He went uphill and I went down.

It was not long before the possible directions Ben had gone branched into something that would require a team of searchers, so when the nicely dressed woman said, "Are you looking for a boy?", I was very, very happy.

Ben had wandered into a reception, outdoors under a canopy.  I loped up the stairs I'd just gone down and burst into the reception, barefoot and clad in t-shirt and shorts.  The party-goers were well-dressed and slightly intoxicated.

 One gentleman pointed across the tent and said, "He went that away!"  I strode through and found Ben, who seemed happy to see me.  I scooped him up and we marched back through the party.  The bartender said, "He was the life of the party!"

Her name is "Rio"

This was our third evening in Snowmass, Colorado.  We're staying in a condo that's kind of like a 3-story shotgun shack.  It's sort of a monument to the 80's, but I liked the 80's pretty well.  They were almost as good as the 90's.

...cue dream sequence...

Yesterday morning, about 3:30, I was riding motorcycles through an airport with my friend, David.  We were trying to get to baggage claim.  I can never read in my dreams, so I couldn't follow the signs.  Also, my motorcycle seemed to be stuck on full throttle.  The escalators were exciting.

I plowed into a neatly stacked pile of luggage (who does that?) just in time to see Ben go through a door on the baggage conveyor.  I woke with a start.

My first thought was "What was that noise?  Is Ben up?"  I grabbed some clothes off the floor and headed downstairs.  Ben's door was shut, so I headed to the first floor and checked the door - still bolted.  The sliding door to the deck was still locked too.  Ben couldn't lock either behind himself, so I knew he was still inside.

I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep upstairs, so I drowsed on the couch until Ben woke up at 6:00.

Aspen child trap...good thing we bring spare clothes everywhere.

Yesterday, I picked up some twine and some delicious New Belgium ale in bottles.  Last night, after putting Ben to bed, I tied the twine to his doorknob and ran it up and into our bedroom.  I tied the other end to an empty bottle and put it in the marble fireplace hearth so it would tip over when Ben opened his door.

It worked like a charm - I got a good night's sleep and the bottle tipped at 5 o'clock.  Beer bottle clattering on marble was not the most pleasant way to wake up, but the sleep before it was deep and refreshing. 

For information on autism and wandering, visit AWAARE.

Sneaky!

Last week, I had one really bad night's sleep.  I'm not sure what it was...maybe the full moon or something.  Regardless, the next day, I was exhausted, but managed to get kids to school, volunteer in the classroom, attend my older son's "end of year" program, etc.

When we got home, I crashed on the couch.  "Bubba go play with Ben!" I yelled drowsily.  The two of them went in the back yard.  Awww, peace.  Within a minute, Bubba came back in and said, "He doesn't want to play with me, can I go look on the computer?"  "For what?!" "Just some Lego stuff."  "OK...zzzzzz."  At this point, I well and truly fell asleep.

I dreamt that Ben came tiptoeing in from the backyard and past me.  I awoke about 20 minutes later, I guess.  "Bubba, where's Ben?"  "In the back yard."  I closed my eyes again, but they snapped open when I heard a giggle...FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!  I leaped up, deciding upstairs should be checked first.  Sure enough, another giggle came from my room.  As I stepped in, my foot landed in a pile of goo, and I paused to admire Ben's handiwork.

He was very proud of the toothpaste art he'd applied to our fresh pile of laundry, and Lovely Wife's suitcase.  He was also pleased that he'd learned to operate the big squirt bottle of lotion and how to remove the plug from the sink.  With some trepidation, I looked into the sink...yes, that would be my wife's contact lens case...stuck in the drain...covered with minty fresh toothpaste.

No big deal.  Some hand tools and cleaning agents and about an hour, and everything was almost back to normal (the sink is still draining a little slow).   I felt like it was good penance for my inattentiveness.

I don't have any witty way to end this, so instead, I'll plug AWAARE.