Easter Sunday shake up: Autism, Dachshunds, and Earthquakes revisited.

All things considered, Easter this year went off more calm, and peaceful than many a previous year.  Part of this is due to family having been in Europe for the last few weeks, and that there would be no Easter dinner at Grandma's house; we had to fly it solo at home.  Many of us know the trial of one's patience when it comes to visiting family with an Autistic child in tow, and just how draining such events can be.  Where as our home's can often feel like a prison (as we find ourselves confined to prevent sensory meltdowns and the like), on some holidays, it can be just the safe haven we crave.

Our Sunday dinner was met with only a few quick protests due to food preferences, and was relatively more sedate then any other typical day of the month.  It was a huge welcome change.

Dinner was served and consumed, and all had their appropriate "lounging" positions attained to try and digest the ridiculous amount of food that was just eaten.  

That was until shortly after 3:30 pm, when our whole world was literally "shaken up".  

Being a California native, I've been through and earthquake or two.  Always an interesting experience, but usually not one of much note, till yesterday afternoon.  Between my employment history, I have practiced the earthquake situation more times then I care to count (roughly 40 times).  Thankfully, the man was better equipped for the "real deal", because in my panic, I just froze up as our whole entire house swayed and ebbed so fast and hard that I thought for sure it was coming down.  

Once we crawled to our respective doorways, Aspie and two Dachshunds in football holds, I thought for sure that the worlds largest meltdown was about to occur.  Between the deafening roar of our windows rattling, and items flying off shelves, all I could think was next the dogs are going to start barking, and the boy is going to scream like he's never screamed before.  

In what felt like an eternity, but by report was only thirty seconds, the answer became very clear. Only one short "Im scared" and a bit of tears in the boy's eyes, and little else.  The dogs never barked, and the boy never had a meltdown.  It seems that we as the adults, we're far more shaken up by the experience, then everyone else.  

Can't begin to explain how in shock I am at his response, and how proud I am that he pulled through the experience so bravely.  The neighborhood neurotypical children could be heard all around to be much more agitated by far, then my little aspie.  Maybe his disability is a blessing in disguise.