A Messy Missy Mess
A few years ago, we purchased a therapy swing for Rachel to help with some of the sensory issues that come with autism. It required a massive hook mounted in a ceiling beam. Thankfully, as neither Hubby nor I are handy, our house’s previous owner had installed several in our garage. Even though the room wasn’t ideal, we were able to hang the swing in there. On weekends, Rachel often spends hours going in and out, swinging and enjoying herself.
A few months ago, on a rainy Saturday, I had something to do in the house; What, I cannot remember, but it seemed important at the time. So, instead of staying outside and supervising, I checked on Rachel every few minutes. You would think I had learned my lesson by this time.
A couple of minutes after my last inspection, I made another quick trip to the door again. My jaw dropped. Rachel, who loves any sensory activity, had decided to set up a center for herself … with thirty pounds of dog food. I grabbed the broom and slipped and slid my way to the epicenter of the event, the dog on the heels, stumbling like a newborn calf walking for the first time. As my Labrador, Missy — who never turns down food — gobbled, I got down on my knees and swept. Just when I’d worked my way to the food container, Rachel tipped it over again.
I squealed, thinking of all that sweeping ahead of me. And then … I looked between Missy and Rachel, both of them in hog heaven, and cracked up. What’s that cliché? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.