Cracked: A Cautionary Tale

One time, I had to go to the bathroom. 

I was at home, the only adult around, and I was surrounded by four children of various ages.  Two of these children have autism--Daniel, our oldest, was eight at the time.  Gideon was five.  Now, Gideon has a small obsession with eggs. It involves getting his hands on a carton of eggs and throwing them all on the kitchen floor.  This obsession means that 1) I have to hide when I bring eggs home from the store, and 2) I have to keep the eggs in the highest shelf of the fridge. Most of the time, these are enough of a deterrent.

Gideon  may not talk much but he is an excellent

strategist. He plots and plans but does it silently.  He's all about biding his time and sneak attacks. He's very good at it, impressively so.  I have found him on kitchen counters, on top of the refrigerator once, and another time on the top of our front loading washing machine, all because he wanted something.  When Gideon sets his mind on a goal, there's no stopping him.

So, this one time, I had to go to the bathroom.

Gideon saw his opportunity.

I came back to laughter, a lot of laughter. You know when people say, "If you hear silence and you don't know where your child, be afraid?"  That sentiment also works when you hear loud, maniacal laughter coming from your children.  I rounded the doorway into the kitchen and froze, taking the scene in.  See, Gideon had gotten a new carton of eggs out of the refrigerator.  The door was still open and my kitchen floor was a slippery, slimy yellow mess mixed with broken eggshells.  Gideon, in a fit of glee, was running around in small circles, laughing.  Daniel stood by, having watched the whole show, and laughed too.

I'm sure cracked eggs all over a floor are symbolic of my life somehow, right?

I, as you might imagine, was not laughing.  I was livid.  Do you know how flipping hard it is to clean up eggs?.  As I cleaned up the evidence, I ranted and raved.  I lectured and fumed.  I waved my hands around and I raised my voice.  Gideon knew there was trouble on the horizon and he took off to safer pastures.  Daniel though, he continued to watch with amusement.  Since he stayed, he got an earful about always, always, always coming to tell Mommy if he saw Gideon doing something he wasn't supposed to.  I made him repeat it back to me. He did.  Word for word.


Finally, when all the eggs were picked up and the floor was clean, I turned to Daniel and asked, "Daniel, the next time you see your brother throwing eggs, what should you do?"

And Daniel, without hesitation, looked right at me and answered, "Laugh."

Bathroom breaks are on hold for me for the time being.