WARNING: This post is long and does not contain pictures. Lindsey told me that blogs are no good without pictures. I promise to keep this in mind next time...but this post is long enough on its own. I'm not sure who I'm even talking to... or warning given that I have had this blog for all of 3 days...but YOU have been warned nonetheless.
Ok folks, some quick facts for you in no particular order:
- child (one of mine)
- cold
- rain boots
- bump on head
- doors
- kid shovels
- crib
- street
- strangers
- police
If you have jumped to the conclusion from the facts above, that one of my kids bumped his head using a shovel to bury a stranger's rain boots in the street, while being monitored by police during a cold afternoon when his post-surgery-gimp-of-a-dad thought he was behind closed doors in his crib...you are a little ways off from what actually happened this afternoon... Let me put the pieces of this story together "then I'm going to tell you a story that will make your balls shrink to the size of raisins" (line stolen from the movie Notting Hill for effect).
Lindsey was away from the house doing what moms do often; picking up one kid and dropping off another. I recently had surgery to repair a ruptured achillies (blog post pending) from which post-op swelling has kept me pretty much home bound for the last two weeks, and was busy working in my home office. I had just put Bennett (yup, that is the kid involved in this plot) in his crib for a nap.
15-20 minutes later, I heard the doorbell ring. I was a little late in getting to the door... okay, okay, I had decided it wasn't worth hopping on one foot all the way down stairs to see who it was... and after a minute heard a women say "hello, anyone here?" A steady dose of Percocet and Ibuprofen has dulled the pain from my foot, but has not dulled my voice recognition abilities. The women's voice was not Lindsey's and was very unfamiliar.
I jumped up, as much as a one good legged man can jump, and hopped quickly to the top of the stairs to see who the intruder was. I was met with the question, "There is a child outside in the street all alone. Do you know whose it could be?"... stomach starting to drop... I quickly (a relative term here) hopped to the boy’s room to check on Bennett. HE WAS NOT IN HIS CRIB!
Holy crap batman...stomach now below sea level as I hopped back to the top of the stairs, "He is mine! He was taking a nap!"
I hopped down the stairs and out the front door. (In case you haven't gathered by now, rupturing your achilles blows...again, blog post pending.) As I hopped out onto the front porch there were 3 or 4 cars stopped in the street and everybody was knocking on all the neighbor's doors to see who the crappy parents, in this case parent, were/was. With all eyes fixed on the gimp, hopping on the front porch, looking like I had not had a real shower in a while (that is, a shower that does not involve garbage bags, duct tape and, yes, a fair amount of hopping...sigh...), the Allendale Police pulled up. Perfect. Enough about me, where the hell was Bennett!
Bennett was just about asleep in one of the cars, lying in the arms of the woman that saw a two year old wondering by himself and stopped. Bless her soul.
Rewind to how it happened.
1. The B-man managed to get out of his crib. (A new skill which he learned today and mastered for the rest of the night...a bed is in his near future.)
2. He snuck past the office door. Yes folks, this two year old prides himself in the art of stealth and devious maneuvers. Really, I'm only giving credit where credit is deserved.
3. He continued his shifty behavior, skillfully descending the stair case without so much as a creak, which in our 87 year old house is not an easy feat.
4. Next he put on some rain boots. Although there was no rain outside, he is no dummy... it is friggin' cold here in New Jersey. The boots are another indicator of is calculated escape.
5. He opened 4 doors along the way, none of which were locked but, for a two year old, are not easy to open.
6. He took a few breaths of fresh, crisp air (ok...it was down right cold) on the back porch where he was finally free. Oh, and there he located his shovels.
7. Finally, Bennett set off around the house, down the driveway and out onto the street. He then, of course, headed toward the busy street (40 mph speed limit) a few houses down.
Now fast forward back to the gimp who was now trying to explain to an officer of the law how in the world this could have happened.
Police officer's question/comment while up in Bennett's room: "The bar on the crib is up. It doesn't look like he could have got out of that, could he?"
Doh-head: "Yes sir he did, but I didn't know he could. I am certain he was in there taking a nap. I put him in the crib myself!"
Things were going downhill fast...Where the hell was Lindsey!
Police officer: "Was he sleeping in rain boots?"
Dead-beat: "No sir. He often puts his boots on himself. He must have put them on before he went outside" (The other night he proudly walked out in the living room with Lindsey's knee high boots on.)
The officer gave me a look after this answer and I thought to myself, "How hard could hopping in handcuffs be?"
When we returned down stairs to the woman who was ready to take Bennett in as a foster child said, "He has a big bump on his head that is growing by the minute and he is acting really lethargic." Oh boy, I'm going to get tasered...
The night before, Bennett tripped and bonked his head on the living room table. Yes, the bump was still there and starting to give him a black eye, but no, the bump was not still "growing by the minute" or the hour for that matter. Further, he was "lethargic" because he just spent the last 15 minutes in a stranger’s car and quite frankly he knew he was in it deep for sneaking out! I can just imagine him plotting how to get out of this one...
Anyway, the police officer and guardian angel eventually left and I hugged my Bennett for a long time...all the while seeking advice from him about how to explain this story to Lindsey...
So there is the tale of when Bennett tried to escape. We later asked him what he was doing and he told us in 2 year old words that he was shoveling snow. Well played, Bennett...You were out helping your mom out because your gimp-for-a-dad can no longer shovel snow (or ice). A statement which has the undertone of "Go ahead, try and be mad at me." Believe me…I tried and was not successful.
All jokes aside, we are really lucky and blessed nothing bad happened. Give your kids a hug and lock the doors folks. They are capable of more than you think.
As a parting note and in the spirit of full disclosure...a few hours after the "incident", I went to Ava's dance class with Lindsey and the boys. While Lindsey was away and I was watching Christian...well technically he and I were both supposed to be watching Ava dance...he wondered off to find a toy he left in the car. After a few frantic moments, a lot more hopping around and another pair of soiled under-pants, we found Christian outside the YMCA, without his coat on, in 25 degree weather, heading toward the car... Strike two for dad. Doh!
