Today we got a good start on the New Year. I mean, there's nothing like the cops bringing your two year old to your front door to really ring it in, right?
I was sitting at the computer and realized that Izzy was no longer in the room. This usually means I will find him smearing toothpaste in the bathroom or decorating the kitchen floor with eggs. After a moment, I think, I'd better go find him, even though I don't feel like dealing with it. I sigh, get up, go look in the bathroom. Not there. Kitchen. Not there. Under the dining room table. Not there. Living room. Not there. Oh, great, he's probably wreaking havoc upstairs. I look, but he's not there. Hmm. Maybe I missed him. I go back downstairs and re-check all the rooms, plus the spare room. He's not there. Maybe I missed him upstairs? Back I go. Not in my room. Not in the boys room. Not in the baby room. Not in the bathroom. Oh boy. Then I hear a knock knock knock. I am relieved. I think it must be our neighbor, Manuel, bringing him back. The boys like to go over to their house because they have a little girl around Malachi's age, and in the summer they would give them kool-aid. But when I get to the door, it is not Manuel. Rather, it is a police woman. "Do you know this little guy?" she asks me. I do. Apparently he took a walk down the street to 11th Avenue (which is a rather busy street). I thank her profusely for finding him, and after showing her my ID and talking a little more, she leaves. Then I lock the porch door, all three locks on the front door, and put a gate up between the living room and the entry way so he can't even go there. I felt like my heart would fall out of my chest. Soon after, the little escapee falls asleep on the couch. His adventure has tuckered him out.
The funny thing is, this is not the first time this has happened. He did the same thing while at a friend's house last spring. What does it mean when your kid has had two run-ins with the cops and he's not even three years old yet?! But really, I am just glad he's okay, and he's back with me, safe. The little guy can certainly be a trial at times, but I love him, and I couldn't bear to have anything happen to him. One of those weird paradoxes, I guess.