It's not the first time, but it may be the last.I've been waiting to throw open the windows and the doors and let the fresh air come in.
But not so fast.
I've got a couple of escape artists in the house, one who has absolutely no regard for his life or the heart or mind of his mother.
And another one who follows his big brother like a shadow.
They are two boys under the age of 3.
Which means they wait, stealthily, like a caged animals, for the perfect moment to make a mad dash for the door, left ajar by an unassuming, or just negligent, sibling (or parent???).
And then they run for their lives.
And I look like a fool.
I can tell you stories. And so can my neighbors.
Every one of my children have wandered out the door and scared the wit's out of me.
And it's not like I was locked in the bathroom giving myself a pedicure, or sitting on my butt watching General Hospital, or chatting endlessly on the telephone to an old friend while twirling my hair and gazing at the sky.
I was folding laundry, or making dinner, or maybe helping with homework.
Thinking the culprits were safely tucked away, playing blocks or trucks or legos.
Because I JUST left them, one second ago, doing exactly that.
