Whoo-hoo! I was out of town on a girls’ weekend where I could FINALLY relax and not think about autism.
The second night, I called my husband, Greg, to see how things were going. He sounded a little down, but that was to be expected since he was in charge of chasing our three young kids for a few days. “Ha!” I selfishly thought, “He is getting a taste of what my life is like every day, all day long.”
Greg showed great self-control that night on the phone not telling me what had happened earlier that day with Lizzie. He knew it would have ruined my ability to enjoy myself on a rare weekend away. I found out later that he had had the scare of his life.
He had taken the kids to the nature preserve to play at the park. Seems simple enough, right? Run around the park, swing a little, and maybe go down a few slides. That would surely kill an hour or two.
Only it wasn’t simple. The park was super busy that Saturday. Our youngest, Noah, had to be carried or in a stroller, our oldest, Andrew was an extremely active 6-year old, and then there was 4-year old Lizzie, a wanderer with autism, who had no understanding of danger or the consequences her actions could bring.