The garage door is open and my boy walks outside in just his underwear (or less).
“Come back inside,” I beckon, but he grabs his scooter and begins rapidly scootering down the driveway.
I broke my leg not that long ago and am horrible at chasing now, so I walk rapidly toward him, still beckoning for him to come back.
Down the road my boy zooms, laughing maniacally like an evil villain as he gets farther and farther away.
I chase, but it’s not really a chase, but a fast limp, toward him, hoping no one in the neighborhood sees him and thinks I’m the worst mom ever for not controlling my child well enough.
Someone honks a horn at my boy, triggering his flight or fight response, and he’s scared back into reality, so he begins his scoot back to the house at double time.
I thank the person, who I cannot see, who honked their horn because my son has come back home without getting too far.
We repeat this process, but without the horn honking, several times during the day, each time leaving me wondering, How far will he make it the next time?
Please tell me I’m not alone. That this happens to more than just me in some way or another. In the meantime, I wait for my Big Red Box, as I need some serious help with our elopement issues.