Sometimes It's Not the Autistic One

Okay.  So I just said it's "normal" to have an autistic child in my life.  It is.  I also realize that I've written about a lot of the things he does, some things that are not "normal" to other people. Some things that may seem downright stressful and unbearable to some people.  The temper tantrums.  The banging and yelling and water (more on that later) and all kinds of stuff.  But sometimes, it's NOT the autistic kid that's causing the havoc, okay?

So I leave today, this evening, in fact, to go and visit a sick relative who has been in the hospital for forever.  I clean the house top to bottom (temporary bout of insanity), I feed everybody, do two loads of laundry (even thought the washer is leaking...it HAD to be done...that laundry, it reeked!), made sure there were towels within reach of my spouse who although he did not feel well, very kindly agreed to watch the kids (towels...because of Logan's fascination with water, hence the smelly WET laundry in the bathroom), and just made sure that everything that possibly needed to be done, was done before I left.  (Don't press the red button while I'm gone, kids!.  4 8 15 16 23 42! Thank you, Lost.)

So I leave, (Bye honey!  Trying not to feel guilty while I leave you here with three kids and two shih tzus!) and I walk out the door and that's it.

I am gone longer than I planned.  I call my husband four hours later.  How are the kids?

Well.  LOGAN, our littlest, was fine.  However.  My oldest son did this, to his dad and his sister:

"Sarah, I swallowed a black widow spider."

"DAAAAD!  Nathan said he swallowed a black widow!"

"Did you swallow a black widow, Nathan?"

"Yes.  I swallowed a black widow spider."

"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed
a venomous spider."

"Well...it was dead, so I'm okay."

"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed a venomous spider." (My husband can smell a load of crap from fifty miles away, by the way.)

"It was dead."

"You still swallowed the venom. We have to take you to the hospital."

"Weeellll...I'm not sure it was a black widow."

"But you swallowed a spider and we don't know what it was.  It might have been venomous.  We have to take you to the hospital."

"But it was dead."

"But if it was venomous, you still swallowed the venom."

"Wellll...I'm not sure if it was really a spider.  It might have been a weird looking bread crumb."

"So you put something in your mouth that you weren't sure what it was and it might have been a spider, possibly a black widow or something venomous?"

"I don't think it was spider.  It wasn't.  It was a weird looking bread crumb."

"Go to bed."

And if that wasn't enough, friends. If that wasn't enough:

"Hi honey, I'm on the way home."

"Hi."  (Sounding tired.)

"What's going on?"

"Fang tried to eat a turd out of the toilet."

Okay, that is gross. But I am not surprised.  Fang is our "retarded" dog, remember?

"And then he fell in the toilet."

Okay, he really IS "retarded".

"The kids pulled him out and he had a turd stuck to his face."

The only reason we haven't gotten rid of him is because A. He's really cute. and B. He is so stupid.

"They hosed him off in the front yard."

Did they brush his teeth, too?  I sure as hell hope so, because that dog ain't licking my feet when I get home!