A Sense of Security

I found myself lurking around the windows. Is it really lurking, though, if you are on the inside, looking out? Of your own house? I was waiting for the UPS truck. It was late in the afternoon and we had not yet received our delivery. The UPS man usually arrives to our house around five o'clock and I was growing impatient. After all, I had paid for expedited shipping, a rarity.

What could be so highly anticipated, you ask? A new Coach bag? Some stilettos? Does the fact that I had to look up how to spell stilettos answer that question? The item in question was a spring loaded patio door lock. Woohoo!

Since David was diagnosed, I have had a pretty steep learning curve. I have become quite familiar with different therapies and interventions, advocacy organizations, educational processes, sensory issues and the list could go on and on. I did not, however, expect to become a security expert and when I say security I do not mean keeping other people out, but keeping David in the house--or alternatively keeping David out of specific areas of the house as the need arises. At various times in David's childhood, we have found it necessary to try to secure the refrigerator, cabinets, pantry, laundry room, bathrooms, basement and Andrew's Xbox, to name just a few.

Our security battle is not unique. In fact, the last time I mentioned it in a post, one Mom even remarked that she had found success with cabinet and refrigerator latches at a marine store—great idea. (We are a resourceful bunch, aren't we?) Surely something that protects against the wrath of Mother Nature can work for our kids, right?

We had already been discussing the need to keep David from opening the sliding glass door in the basement in anticipation of the replacement of our deck. Aside from the usual risk of elopement (aka running away, because in the world of autism, why call it "running away" when you can call it "elopement" much like "repeating" must be a far inferior term to "echolalia") there would be the added risk of power tools, cedar planks and wet cement. Need I say more?

The specific event that actually precipitated the ordering process and expedited shipping, however, was an evening last week when we were getting the boys ready for bed. Bath time is usually David's favorite time of day, but on this particular day, he was not in the mood. He eloped naked (I know, in a different context that phrase means something different entirely) out of the sliding door in the basement. Andrew, having already removed his shirt in preparation for his shower, was in hot pursuit making it an exquisitely fun game in David's mind. I was not far behind, shoeless. In short, we must have looked like the white trash triplets.

Where was Michael during this family footrace, you might ask? I am honestly not sure, but I would suspect he was peering out the window praying that the neighbors weren't watching.

The package did arrive on time and the lock has been installed. The beauty of this particular lock is that it does not function by trying to outsmart our extraordinarily smart and resourceful boy, rather you must have long enough arms to simultaneously pull the latch and open the door—a feat which David cannot accomplish. Not yet.

So for this brief moment I am feeling a sense of security.