That poor juice box didn’t stand a chance.

So the other day after school we were driving and I gave Alex a juice box.  This has been our first week of school and I’ve unloaded our calender.  I’ve cancelled everything except one activity so that he can come home and decompress.  School’s hard on any kid, add Autism and lets just say this week’s been a bit stressful.

Today was the day he completely freaked out.  Self combusted, lost his lid, whatever.  He melted down over a frigging juice box.  In the car.

From the back seat I hear all sorts of sputtering and gagging.  Oh Shit.

Apparently I had the wrong kind of juice box.  I deviated from our normal brand of juice and he noticed.  Fuuuuuuck.

“Mom, MOM!!!  I can not drink from this juice box.  I simply can not ingest juice that is 66% juice and 34% inert material.”  He’s in the back seat of the car, holding on to the offending juice box, flapping and gagging.  Juice going everywhere.

“OK, well hon I’m trying to drive here.  Just put the juice box down and I’ll take a look at it when we get out.  Listen.  Listen to me.  ALEX, listen.  I need you to listen with your ears.”

I get an exasperated, “What?” from the back seat and a, “No, mom, NO.  I can not simply put the box down.  We’re in the car.  Where am I supposed to put it?  I don’t want it near me.  I can’t have it near me.  I drank some of it.  Mom, I think I’m gonna to puke.”

Now if you want to get my attention fast, say those three magic words, I’m gonna puke.  Nothing gets a reaction out of me faster.  There are very few things in this world I well and truly despise and puke is one of them.

“OK, get the bucket if you have to but I tell you what.  I’m not cleaning your puke this time.  New rule.  If you make yourself puke, you clean it.”  If I had a dime for the number of times I’ve cleaned puke in our car, house, pool, where ever, I’d be a bloody millionaire by now.  Or if Alex did the math, I’d have at least, $31.20.  Whatever.

We have an old bucket/Tupperware container in the back seat for this very reason. We moved from a bucket to Tupperware because of the lid factor.  If you’ve ever sat in a car with puke, you’ll know how vital a lid can be.  Trust me.  

Exhibit A.

“What?!?  I can’t clean my own puke.  Mom, THAT’S DISGUSTING!”

“Oh yeah?!?  Well how do you think I feel every time you puke?  Do you think I like cleaning your puke?  No, I most certainly do not.  I think it’s disgusting too.”

“Well, if I can’t puke, now what?  I drank it, I may die. Now what?  I’M GONNA DIE.”  He’s writhing in the back seat, I’m watching juice fly everywhere, still trying to drive, and thanking Good God All Mighty that the straps on his car seat are holding.

“No, you are not going to die.  No one has ever died from drinking juice.  If people died from drinking juice, don’t you think the juice industry would be out of business by now?”

That got him, totally got him off of thinking about his juice induced death, he was thinking, thinking.  And he was calming down.  Just that quickly, he’d calmed back down.

“Well,  Mom.  People can die from drinking water, you know.  There is something called ‘water intoxication’ and people die from drinking too much water.”  He’s telling me this, juice forgotten.  Sure, he’s flicking his wrists and still worked up, but he was coming back.

From the rear view mirror, I can see the juice has been launched to the floor of the car.  He was looking out the window, still thinking.  Quiet.

The rest of the ride was in silence.  I turned off the DVD player and we just drove.  I kept looking back at him.  He was deep in thought and I just let him be.

When we got to where we were going, Alex asked, “Mom, when we get to group, can I throw the juice in the garbage can?  And next time?  You need to remember the right kind of juice box.  I’m very disappointed in you right now.”

Juice box, you are dead to me.

I watched as the threw the juice into the garbage.  I gave him a squeeze and whispered,  “I promise to buy the right kind of juice next time.  And I’m proud of you, you didn’t puke.”

He gave me a sigh, a big exasperated sigh, and just that quickly he wiggled away from me.

Don’t worry, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be buying the wrong kind of juice box any time soon.  Anyone want a case of Fruitopia?