The Battle of the Sweatshirt

Bear with me here... it's been a rough afternoon.
Waylon left the house in full winter attire this afternoon to throw rocks in the dog's water. (His favorite sunny day past time.) It's a pretty deep water container, and he can throw gravel in it for hours without moving more than 5 feet. I kept a super-close eye on him from the window where I was folding laundry. Of course, I should know that no afternoon with Waylon can ever be that simple. I remembered that when I glanced out the window to find him naked. Joey, our crazy bird dog, was happily dragging his favorite sweatshirt through the mud.
When I say favorite, I mean it is the sweatshirt that he changes into every day when we get home. He flips when it needs put in the wash. He rips the laundry sorter routinely digging for it. He will climb onto the washer and put it on wet if I haven't gotten it dried yet.
Yes- it is the holy grail of sweatshirts.
Thankfully, Waylon hadn't noticed because he was too busy getting his wet pants off.
I ran out and got the shirt from Joey before Waylon noticed. And because it was pretty chilly, I drug naked Waylon inside screaming bloody murder (he wasn't done throwing rocks yet) to get some different clothes on.
I picked out the heaviest sweatshirt I could find that was clean to replace his fave. And when I got him cleaned up and dressed, I decided it might be easier to put in a movie than to let him outside to get filthy again.
Turns out that was wrong. First mistake.
I hadn't got the washing machine lid closed. Second mistake.
I hear a scream, run to the laundry room. Waylon is on the floor, sitting in an inch of water. The laundry hamper is torn to shreds. Not just ripped a little. It's annihilated. The wall next to the washing machine is wet 3/4 of the way to the ceiling. And the contents of the washing machine are covering the room.
Apparently, the replacement sweatshirt was not ok. Third mistake.
This is when I flipped.
The poor little guy just wanted his favorite sweatshirt. He doesn't know how to ask for it, and he knows it is either in the hamper or the washing machine. And when he can't find it, he flips out. Obviously.
But in the heat of the moment, he caught me by surprise-
When I was yelling at him, he covered his butt.

Here's the part where I should say- I'm sorry if you don't spank your children, but we do. We don't spank them all the time, or for trivial things. It's usually rare that they need one. But if they are in serious trouble, they know there will be a spanking coming.

AND WAYLON KNEW HE WAS IN TROUBLE!  WOO HOO!!!
I know- how bizarre, that accomplishments come in such strange packages. A year ago, I could yell at him and his facial expression would remain flat. He would have no clue that he was in trouble, or that his behavior was unacceptable. But today, he knew!

After cleaning up the laundry room, I really wanted to call and interrupt Trav's afternoon of peace at the lake to let loose with the events of the past hour. But I decided that it wouldn't be nice to lay it on him on his afternoon off. Then I thought the facebook world might get a chuckle out of the painfully exhausting afternoon I've had, but I remembered I gave it up for lent. Then I thought- if people out there in the blogosphere really want to know what "a day in the life of autism" is like, they might enjoy this story. Only, the real truth of it is- that was only an hour in the life of autism. And it was exhausting.