Escape Artist

Earlier this week, Teddy was having a rough morning. He was in a sassy mood, trying to climb over the stair railing and was sad because we kept redirecting him. So he went into his room, vocalizing his displeasure. I had 5 minutes until my timer went off for the granola in the oven, so I figured I'd join him in his room to see if I could improve his mood. I laid down next to him, and he covered me with a blanket, left the room and shut the door. It's not uncommon for him to do this and then continue to open and shut the door, but I decided to beat him to the punch by opening the door ...

... except the knob wouldn't turn. I didn't panic completely because sometimes the door handles stick with the safety locks on them, so I pried off the safety lock. Yet the door knob still wouldn't turn. I was locked in Teddy's room. He was locked outside his room. We were alone in the house. I had no phone. Yikes.

His OT should be impressed. I am, but I'm not.

Fortunately, we keep a screwdriver in his room in case this happens, so I went to grab the screwdriver. But I couldn't find it. Now I was panicking, praying and sobbing while pulling things down off the shelf to look for the screwdriver. I still couldn't find it. 

Now, I'm short, and the shelves in Teddy's room are tall, so he can't pull things off them. That means I can't see on top of the shelves without standing on the bed (or bouncing to see further back). So I was jumping on his bed trying to find it, flinging things off his taller shelf. There is nothing to climb in his room (to keep him safe), so I didn't have many options to look and feel in the far reaches of the shelf. 

After I ripped down most things from the shelves, I didn't think I had any other option to make sure Teddy was safe for the hour until our sitter arrived. So I removed his window screen, asked him one more time if he'd open the door and used the fire safety escape ladder to get down to our deck one story below. Then I ran around the house, unlocked the door and the safety lock from the garage and walked inside to find Teddy staring out the window down the street. 

It's a lovely view, minus the rather unsteady ladder.

That's when I grabbed my phone to photograph the adventure of the morning and the step stool to put his room back together. Of course, when I wasn't freaking out, I was able to locate the screwdriver. I knew I was panicking because I know the trouble Teddy can get into in an instant (as is evidenced by him locking me in the room). I had tried to calm myself and slow down, yet I knew time was of the essence.

Fortunately, we were both completely safe. As we put his room back together, I discovered all sorts of fun books that had been shoved out of sight on his bookshelf. And I got some valuable fire safety practice skills, along with the opportunity to have AJ practice that evening (since the ladder is intended for single use, so we just did it right out on ground level to practice the motions). 

And, I also realized that it will be nearly impossible without strapping Teddy to me physically to get him down the fire safety ladder. I honestly thing the best bed would be to lay his pile of pillows on his sheet, lay him on top, and scoop up the bedding and lower it as low as I can before I drop him onto the deck, which would be not horribly far. I mean, he fell further without cushioning when he scaled the railing from the second floor. Are parents supposed to contemplate these things? 

Sigh. This child will be the death of me. 

He's Got a Knife!

Teddy has a high interest in helping in the kitchen, coupled with limited safety skills. It's not the best combination, so we work with very close supervision and sometimes hand-over-hand assistance. He's gets so excited when we let him help stir dishes on the stove. Although it makes me nervous, he does very well holding the pan handle with one hand and the spoon with the other. 

There's no way, though, that we trust him with an actual sharp knife. He's been working with a butter knife. The challenges with that are that it's not as sharp as needed to cut some things, and the bigger challenge is his inability to know which way to hold it. He often tries cutting with the knife upside down.

So we discussed this with his OT, and she recommended several different options. We purchased a set of serrated plastic knives intended for young children, along with a wooden cutter. He is doing great with holding the knife properly and is chopping so well. And he's so proud of himself. And so are we.

Goal: Keep Him Alive

I was mostly mom today, taking time off work to hang with the boys because we didn't have childcare. I did hop on one work meeting while Dave watched the boys. Someone asked what I was doing on my day off, and my reply was that I was "teaching school and trying to keep them alive." 

Apparently that response is a bit shocking to other people, at least those who aren't familiar with Teddy. When I heard shocked laughter, I explained that one of my sons has significant special needs, no safety awareness and likes to live on the dangerous side. I shared that he managed to open a pocket knife this morning. After that explanation, they agreed that keeping my kids alive was an accurate description. 

What I didn't share during the work meeting was that the pocket knife incident occurred when I was in the bathroom, using the bathroom. I was in the middle of doing my business when I heard rustling and knew Teddy was digging around on a shelf that is newly in his reach. Then the bathroom door flung open, I caught a quick glimpse of Teddy holding something, and then he shut it and ran away. I immediately processed that something he was holding was not something he was supposed to have.

I flung open the door and chased him a few steps, with my pants still around my knees. Sure enough, he was holding an open pocket knife, by the blade of course, with the biggest grin on his face. I maneuvered the knife out of his hands without either of us getting sliced.

His OT should be proud he can open this knife. Me, not so much.

Then I took the knife with me, locked the bathroom door and finished my business.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish my life was boring.

Little Moments

This week Teddy brought home the get to know you poster we created for his kindergarten class. I pointed to my picture and said, "Look, there's Mama!" Then I asked where Papa was, and Teddy pointed right at this picture:

The minute of hiking Teddy did this past vacation, captured forever.

I was so happy because we're still working on understanding and getting Teddy to show us he knows who different people are. 

From that little victory, he went to have snack at the table and then carried his  plate to the sink! It's incredible to see him carry a plate, often with food objects on it, and not have it be dumped immediately. It's also just this week that he's consistently putting his dishes in the sink when he's done, which is huge progress.

Granted, 10 minutes later he collapsed into a complete sobbing mess because he thought I took his popsicle away from him when all I did was set it on the table because that's where we eat popsicles. He melted into tears on the floor and wouldn't look up to the table or sit at his chair to see the treat. Instead, I had to set him in the chair, and then he was eye level sobbing at the popsicle and finally started licking it. It took some singing and silliness before he perked back up.

It just shows how there's so much progress and yet such simple things create massive breakdowns in either communication or comprehension. He wasn't mad that he had to sit at the table. He clearly thought his popsicle was gone. If we're being honest, I'd cry if that was the case, too.