You guys. The weather is absolutely amazing over here. It's cool, it's crisp, and it's just downright perfection. I have been opening my windows and doors to kind of "air out" the house from the smothering days of summer. There is nothing better than fresh air blowing through the house and recirculating the air. The summer staleness is GONE, friends, and my home is thanking for me for it. Yay!
The other night, I was in the kitchen cooking supper waiting for Husby to get home. Levi was hopping around like a frog, burning off some two-year-old-boy-energy and screaming, "let's go outside, Mommy - PLEEEEEEEASE!", over and over and over again. I explained to him that I was busy cooking, but he didn't let up. He hopped and he begged for HOURS. Okay, maybe it was just 10 minutes, but my ears believe otherwise.
Our backdoor that leads to the backyard just so happens to be in our kitchen, so I opened that bad boy up and told him to go play. We have a fence that encloses our backyard, but we do not have a fence on the sides of the house to completely close it off from the front yard. I always hesitate about letting him play without me out there at all times, because I never know where he'll wander off to. OR - who might meander back there and grab my precious angel and head for the hills.
I'm morbid, but you gotta be morbid to protect your babies. Right?
Anyway, back to the story. Levi was begging to play in his sandbox, so he built castles as I browned my meat nearby. I stopped what I was doing literally every minute or so to pop my head out and make sure he was still there. When I wasn't popping my head out, I was talking to him to make sure he stayed where he was supposed to.
My meat was finally browed, and I gave it a quick stir with my large metal spoon and stepped outside to check on Weebie.
Um. He was gone.
"LEVI?" I said.
"LEVI!!!!!!!!" I screamed.
My eyes darted all around the backyard at lightening speed checking every little crevice. He wasn't at the sandbox. Not on the trampoline. Not under the trampoline. Not in his fort. Not under his fort. Not on his slide. Not under his slide. In approximately .02 seconds, I was off.
I sprinted like Jackie Joyner Kersee on the side of the house screaming his name and flailing my arms about - giant metal spoon in hand. We had been running errands earlier that day and when we got home, I took off my clothes and threw on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. A Minnie Mouse sweatshirt, no less. I was lookin' h-o-t.
I rounded the corner with Minnie and my spoon at my side, stopped dead in my tracks and scanned the yard. Screaming. I never stopped screaming. My spoon never stopped waving. My sweats never stopped sagging.
He wasn't there.
My. Heart. Stopped.
I Jackie Joyner'ed it across the front yard in a cold sweat, heart racing, stomach churning ... and let out one giant yell, "LEVI!!!!!!!" as I peered around the other side of the house - praying with all I had that he was there.
And wouldn't you know, there he stood. He stopped and stared at me as he held the big yellow sprinkler in his hands. He was looking at me like I'd completely lost my mind and he said ever so calm and collectively, "what, Mommy?"
I threw my spoon, hiked up my sweats and tackled him to the ground hugging him and trying to stop shaking. I instructed him to NEVER leave the backyard without Mommy and he looked me right in they eyes and said, "okay, Mommy", and laid his head on my shoulder and gave me the biggest hug.
My precious little baby. How he rips my guts out and scares me to smithereens.
When we got back to the sandbox and my heart rate went back to normal speed, I replayed the scenario in my mind. I can not imagine what it looked like to anyone who may have witnessed the scene. If you are my neighbor and you saw a flash of pink and metal flying through your yard earlier this week, I offer my sincerest apologies. I promise I'm not a fruitcake.
I am normal.
But then again, I was wearing a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt.
And Husby, if supper had any bits of grass in it last night ... blame the spoon.