Happy Birthday? Or Lapse in Security

This afternoon, I took the boys to a birthday party. It was my friend's son's sixth birthday, and Hutton had been very excited when I told him about the party earlier this week. Of course, he was probably thinking, "Birthday = Cake" as that was the situation at the last party we attended. That was an infraction filled day a few months ago (infraction meaning an item not on Hutton's allergy-free diet, or Doritos, pretzels, M&Ms, corn syrup laden "juice" boxes and candy, and a regular gluten and casein-filled chocolate cake).

Fortunately, today's party had some GFCF foods Hutton could eat, as well as two bouncy houses set up in the backyard, along with the regular backyard features of a trampoline, a swingset and a tree house. Within minutes, Hutton was joining some other boys in the rather intense tree house, but he made it up with no problems. A few minutes later, "The Bubble Man" was getting ready to perform, so I called Hutton down, and he managed to scramble down on his own.

The Bubble Man was a hippie whose focus was on driving home to the kids the importance of cheap toys from the thrift store (most of his bubble paraphanelia was made from reused trash or thrift store goods) but spent a bit too much time wishing we were back in the 90s. At one point he brought up compact flourescent lights, and I yelled out, "Those have mercury in them!" and my friend Amy and I talked about how if you break one in your house, you need a hazmat team to clean it up. Bubble Man didn't really have a good comeback for that, but he was a good bubble maker.

Harrison was laughing and enjoying the bubbles, as was Hutton. At least for a few minutes. Soon enough, though, he started saying, "Let's go. Be finished." I told him we'd be done soon, but he wandered off towards the tree house. I watched The Bubble Man for another minute, before taking Harrison to go check on Hutton.

Was he in the tree house? No, he was not in the tree house.

Was he jumping on the trampoline or in the bouncy houses? No, he was not.

Was he inside the house? Not in the kitchen. Not in the living room. Not in the bathroom. Not in the play room. How about the laundry room? Nope. The dining room? Nope. The upstairs bedrooms? Nope, nope, nope. Harrison was tagging along behind me, saying, "Hutton's hiding! Let's find Hutton!" as I grew more anxious by the moment. I went outside and looped around the yard again, rechecking. Then through the house, checking closets. I went out to the bubble action area and told my friends that Hutton was gone, then walked to the back of the yard to yell for him and search in the neighbors' yards.

Harrison was still tagging along, saying, "We're looking for Hutton! Hutton's gone! He's hiding!" as I attempted to not get frantic. I got scratched up by briers climbing through overgrowth to get to the neighbors and ask if they'd seen Hutton. (Don't worry: I lifted Harrison over the briers, so he didn't get hurt!) Other parents at the party fanned out to look for Hutton as well. I wandered over to a neighborhood behind the party house, and a very concerned little girl and her brothers told me they had heard already and were looking for Hutton. By this time, I was trying not to cry, but wasn't succeeding. I wandered through yards, asking anybody I saw if they'd seen a little boy.

Giving up, I walked back to the party house, with trooper Harrison still by my side. The party hostess told me she'd called the police and they were on their way, but no missing children had been found. Just then, a police SUV pulled up, and I walked over to talk to the officer getting out. I was about to give him Hutton's description, when he said, "So, is this little guy with you?" and opened the back door to present Hutton happily sitting in the backseat. I immediately started crying and mumbling, "Jesus Christ!" and assorted other things. Apparently Hutton had run down to the busy street a mile away and someone had grabbed him before he got into real trouble. Just typing it makes me cry and repeat, "Jesus Christ!" as my heart starts racing again.

Afterwards, Hutton enjoyed some GFCF cupcakes and fruit while the birthday boy opened gifts, then Hutton and Harrison jumped on the trampoline. I muttered to my friend, "Yeah, now he wants to jump on the trampoline. It wasn't nearly as interesting as the traffic lights a little while ago!"

Why did he run off? Was he trying to get home? Did he really want to see a traffic light? Did he just want to freak Mommy out as an early Mother's Day gift? Who knows! The flight of the autistic child is nothing new. (It's called elopement, though unfortunately, it's not nearly as romantic in autistic kids as it is in young couples running off to get married.) In fact, a few moms at the party had stories of their own lost, and often naked, autistic kids. And Hutton has run off before, but it hadn't happened in so long (two years?) that I thought that was one worry I could put to bed. I guess not! Time to get out the ID bracelet and make Hutton wear it again!