Friday, December 4, 2009

a horror story

In which the father of a two-year-old awakes to the phone ringing and someone asks if he has a son named Aidan.

We were in St. Martin this week, wonder of wonders. I got up early the first day and went downstairs to get some exercise, also wonder of wonders. We had been careful to chain the door closed, more to keep Aidan in than others out, but when you leave, you can't chain behind you. The boys were both fast asleep, so I left a note on the counter letting Steven know where I'd be.

Downstairs on the treadmill, Steven walked in carrying Aidan, and I couldn't figure out why they'd not wait for me to finish. Turns out that Aidan woke up before Daddy and decided to go looking for Mommy. He opened the front door of our condo, on the 8th floor, and went to the elevator. Luckily, he pressed floor 1, which took him to the lobby. When he got there, another mommy saw him, and started asking questions. She was pretty impressed with how he could answer - what's your name? ("Aidan") Where do you live? ("With Mommy & Daddy") What's Mommy's name? What's Daddy's name? The woman asked enough questions that the desk was able to find out who we were, and they called. You know what happened next - my husband awoke to a horrible phonecall on the first morning of our vacation. Luckily, if a "breakout" was going to occur, it happened under the best circumstances with the best outcome.

No comments: