Luke's Naughty Experience

Well, where to start? Luke has been up to some major trouble these last few weeks. We bought some new little chick's and named them Blackie, Chip, Tweety (yellow), and Grey Grey (black and white). We had to buy a glass reptile cage for them because it was too cold to keep them outside. We also bought a heating lamp which Luke used to burn a mark in our wood floor, but that was only the beginning.

Luke kept getting into the cage and trying to hold the chickens. We didn't have a lock on the cage which was our first problem. (Besides having a black burnmark in our floor) In fact, I am surprised that some of them are still alive, because Luke loves to experiment with them, by throwing them off the front porch, down the window well, and always catches them by grabbing their tails and picking them up. (We have left overs if you need some for your down comforter)

One day I heard the vacuum go on. I didn't think anything of it until I realized that Luke was upstairs and it might be him instead of Tausha. Then I heard the most terrifying sound. It was the sound of a chicken getting sucked into the vacuum hose. (sllllllllllllllllurp) As I turned the corner all I could see was the last 2/3 of Tweety hanging out of the hose, and Luke stemming as he enjoyed the fascinating experiment. There was Tweety plugged up into the hose of our vacuum, and my little autistic boy was laughing thrilled with excitement, to see if the vacuum could gobble him up all the way.

After switching the vacuum off the high pitched squeal subsided and Tweety's neck slowly returned 3 inches to it's natural location. (Don't worry we know several Chiropractors and there was no dislocation or dicombobulation of the spinal chord:) [note: Luke had already swoozen Tweety enough that it's neck was quite used to the lengthened condition]

The next episode occurred when Luke decided to turn our all of our chicks white. (Since he didn't get a "whitey") He dumped a whole picture of water on the chicks and then a 5 lbs bag of flour on them. When Tausha finally made it upstairs she was filled with horror following a trail of flour from the kitchen into the family room listening the the vibrant cherping that usually came when their lives were in danger and Luke was nearby.

There they were covered from beak to toe in a thick floury mire. When Tausha finnally got to them the chicks had churned the mixture into a fine chicken pot pie dough like sustance. The chicks must have of desperately spun those legs of their's because the water marks were up to the chicks necks. Tausha had fun trying to bath and free them from their breaded state.

We won't tell you what Tausha did next or you might turn us into the child protection agency, but after a while on our front porch Luke wripped our wreath to smitherings. (If any of you know a good psychologist let us know. (Oh wait we are already seeing one, but he told us to build a wooded box and lock him in it. Sound like a good idea?)

Anyways, back to the chick saga. Heat lamps, nourishment, and Tausha's loving care brought the chicks their natural state. (and color) It has been difficult for Tausha to bake chicken ever since.

Well the fun Luke had with blackie came to a sad ending only a few days later. Evie, although not autistic, has her own share of autistic moments, had Blackie in a box and decided to see how hard she could shake it. After the wrath of our little red head was experienced, blackie couldn't take it any longer and died. She opened the box and little Blackie wasn't moving. How tramatizing death is to little children, the finality so real and bleak.

Tausha was probably more upset about it then our children. After bathing them, feeding them, watching your children hold and admire them, Tausha had made some real connections with their feathery friends. Besides they didn't complain, snap back, or ask her to do things, like the rest of us did, and now Luke's favorite, the one he had picked out for himself was gone.

She carried Blackie with his head drooping with each step. Blackie had met his match. He had bounced back from the being Isaac's, our 1 year old, hat, bouncing on the trampeling and getting steam rollered by the Luke man, and even the "shake and bake" experience, but now it was too late, there was nothing we could do but tell Luke.

Blackie had become Luke's best friend. Like Tausha Luke liked Blackie for similiar reasons, he didn't ram his head into the walls, like the big bully at Luke's school, he just sat on Luke's lap and let him pet him. (Luke's mantra: I want to love him, and pet him, and squeeze him) Luke had been so excited to call all of his friends in the neighborhood to come see Blackie for the first time, and now we had to break him the news.

When Luke found out he immediately started to cry. He ran outside to see if it was true. He was inconsolable, so I decided to have a funeral service for Blackie. I talked about the resurrection and how, because of Jesus Christ, Blackie would live again. When I asked Luke if he had any words for Blackie before we buried her, Luke said in tears and with the sweetest sincerity I have ever heard come from his lips, "Bye, Blackie!!!"

If only she had killed tweety, chip, or grey grey! We buried Blackie in the back yard and and Evie went a picked a flower, put it on top of blackie's resting spot, she said, "Aren't you supposed to put flowers on where people die." She is the cutest girl and was finally able to do something to help her deal with the guilt her mother had bestowed upon her for murdering one of her children. (I mean a chicken)

My sister Sara and her husband Doug came by to pick us up to go out on the town. Luke asked Sara with again all the sincerity he could muster, "When is Blackie going to be resurrected?"

Sara thought of the highest number that she thought Luke could comprehend and told him, "In one hundred days. Blackie will come back to life in one hundred days!" (We are still trying to fix that explanation:)

Well, after all of the chicken soapora, we thought we would have a rest from all the drama for a while! No rest for the weary Luke was at it again, if he couldn't hold the chickens 24/7, I guess he thought he could start acting like a chicken.

Sunday is supposed to be a "day of rest" right; and Tausha and I usually like to take a nap. We have been able to do so for a few weeks now until this last Sunday. In order to make sure Luke isn't getting into trouble we have to set an alarm for the duration of a movie he is watching. He usually stays very focused on the Tube. So after the alarm goes off to notify us Luke is going to destroy something we wake up, change the movie, and then go back to sleep for a hour or so.

Well, when I got to the end of the second movie time limit, I went upstairs to check on Luke. For some reason lately, Luke has been fascinated with spraying hair products, lotion, perfume, etc., on Isaac's head. He also even put permanent lipstick (max factor 12 hour wear) all over his own face to get a laugh from all of his friends at school, last week, but came home disappointed because none of his friends at school laughed about it. (I am sure thanks to the prompting of Luke's teacher!)

Anyways, on Sunday, I came up stairs and Isaac was covered with some liquid substance, and it was all over the bed. When I asked Luke what he had dumped on Isaac's head he said, "Water!" I believed him and changed Isaac into some new clothes so he didn't get cold outside. As we drove to Nana's (my mom's house) I looked back I saw Isaac's hair standing up. I thought to myself, "that wasn't water he dumped on Isaac!" I asked Luke what he had poured on Isaac's head.

I was horrified to hear these words come from his mouth, "Pee, pees!" I shuttered inside as Tausha added, "I thought he smelt like urine, when I picked him up." I was so angry I asked him again, "Luke did you really pee on Isaac's head?" He smiled and smirked, "Yep!" I was in denial and completely knocked off balance. My sweet trusting Isaac boy, had urine all over his body and didn't even know it.

I couldn't believe that my sweet little Isaac just sat there innocently watching a Sunday afternoon show about Jesus, while Luke stood over him laughing as he dowsed him with urine.

I had to breath deeply and count to 100. I love Luke, but sometimes, I really, really have to pray for charity. I hope someday I will be able to laugh about these experiences! This too shall pass.