One thing you must understand above all others is that safety is a goal. An ideal. A moving target of a state of being which can elude the most diligent archer. Keeping two Autistic children safe is akin to being hunted by a pack of velociraptors. It's been a long time since humans have been troubled by velociraptors (oh yes, I went there), so I'll refresh your memory. "You stare at him, and he just stares right back. And that's when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side, from the other two 'raptors you didn't even know were there."*
That's how it is with our boys. When you're watching Jay-Jay to make sure he isn't going over the fence, that's when Jo is choking on the bottle cap. And when you're chasing Jo down the store aisle, that's when Jay-Jay is climbing out of the cart to head the other way. Being alone with them in public is tense. And the sure knowledge of what can happen if you let that tension lapse . . . well, it's terrifying. I may write some more about this vigilance in the future, but for now let's finish the security talk with two locks that keep the boys safe from the world and one lock which keeps them safe from me.
|Yes, there is a Fort Knox feeling to it. You get accustomed.|
|I'm sure you're wondering what my lawn secret is. Neglect.|
|We bought this cabinet pre-abused from Granddaddy's.|
So there's security. Please let me know if you have any questions, and post any best practices and fresh ideas in the comments below. And if a kid runs past you in Walmart making a funny noise, cover the exit - I'll head him off at the candy aisle.
*The quote is from Jurassic Park, but you knew that.