Yesterday morning, amidst the craziness of sleeping in late and trying to get everyone out the door on time, Coley asked, "Mom, can I walk?" (To the Summer program the kids attend.)
Half listening, I thought he had asked if we could walk so I said, "Sure!"
About five minutes later, Annie and I were ready and walking out the front door when I asked, "Annie, where's your brother?" to which she replied, "You told him that he could walk." to which I replied, "No, I told him we could walk."
Mind you Cole is 10 and the Summer program is only 1/4 mile from our house but in the time it took me to call the school, all sorts of horrific scenarios had begun playing in my head.
When one of the staff members answered the phone, I said, "Hey, this is Karen...I know this is going to sound weird but I'm wondering if Cole is there?" She laughed kind of awkwardly and said, "Should I assume you've misplaced him?"
And I guess if the word 'misplaced' assuages some of the guilt of not knowing where in the %$&@# your child is, then yes indeed, I had 'misplaced' my son.
She walked down to Cole's classroom to see if he was there and said, "No, I don't see him...oh wait, he's walking in the door right now, do you want to talk to him?" to which I replied, "No, I'm too mad to talk to him right now but I'll be there in a minute."
And I guess if the word 'mad' allows me to cloak the worry and embarrassment I was feeling, then yes indeed, I was 'mad.'
Thankfully, it only took me a 1/4 of a mile walk to the school to find the humor in the whole situation. Unfortunately though, in that same 1/4 a mile, I realized that in my frenzy, I had locked myself out of the house.