BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sound is coming from the bathroom.
Sometimes when the boys shower, they bang on the wall. Really loudly.
So I'm on my way to the bathroom door to knock on it and tell whoever is in there to cut it out.
There's a small crowd gathered around the door, and I quickly realize whats happening.
Little Peanut has locked himself in the bathroom and is banging his head against the wall.
I'm running to the office to get a paperclip. If you straighten a paperclip out, you can stick it into the little hole of most interior door locks to pop them open.
I'm back to the bathroom door in a matter of seconds, but the door is completely busted off all three hinges. "What the hell!?" I think.
Oh, good. Another one of the kids saw an opportunity to be destructive and claim it was to be helpful. Two birds. One stone. Be a jerk. Be a hero. Bust a door.
But there's no time to deal with our "helpful hero." I rush into the bathroom to find Peanut in tears. His face is already beginning to bruise. "Hey, Peanut. Wanna come talk to me?" He nods yes and takes my hand, follows me out into the hallway.
With a sudden and unexpected shriek, Peanut kicks me and runs to the door. The thing is, Peanut likes to lay in the street and get ran over by cars. Apparently, the devil tells him to do it. According to Peanut, the devil tells him to do a lot of things. And I believe him.
So I dart after him. As I grab him, he begins kicking me and biting himself, drawing blood almost instantly. Another staff member assists, and we place Peanut in a floor assisted restraint. But we cannot keep Peanut from bashing his head into the floor. So we move into a upright seated restraint. This is a little more effective at keeping him safe.
Tears. Blood. Sweat. Pouring. Screaming. Like a demon.
And a strength that seems unnatural for a 60lb eleven year old to have.
Finally, all the struggle ends in exhaustion. Some comforting words and hugs. A PRN. And a bedtime story. Meltdown complete.Crisis over. For now.
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