7:24 am this morning .
Beard wakes me from my slumber. 'What the F Beard?' The alarm is set for 7:30. This had better be good. The Beard has heard crying from the other room. My canine companion, Charlie Buckets, is also awake pacing the room and whining.
Fine, fine. I am up. Be cool, both of you. I start to shake the cobwebs and slowly roll to the edge of the bed. Now I hear a faint whimpering. Must be the boy, I think. Probably stepped on a toy battle axe getting out of his bunk bed. Maybe he is crying because he can't reach the Easter basket I hid on top of the oven (out of his chair assisted reach). Hell, it could be anything with Wylie. I should probably be grateful he didn't wake me up by turning on the bedroom light and smacking me in the foot with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Sai again (shout out to Raphael).
I open my bedroom door and start moving towards the muffled wailing. Should I start coffee first? Odd, the cries don't seem to be coming from the bedroom. Coffee can wait, kid might be in the garage with the power tools. Never to early for Man Work but should probably have supervision. Shuffle, shuffle. I slowly make my way through the living room with Charlie the crime dog at my heels. We are going to get to the bottom of this mystery right now. Out of the corner of my eye I pickup on some movement on the back deck. Mental note - see what that is after saving the boy from himself. Past the television, the washer and dryer, the kids bath, Porter's room, and into Wylie's room I go.
Not on the bottom bunk, I check the top, empty as well. Quick check for feet under the curtain or a closed closet door reveal no child. The crying starts up again. I suddenly remember the movement on the back porch. Time to revisit. Back past Porter's room, the kids bath, the washer and dryer, and television I thud.
Charlie is at the sliding glass door waiting for me to catch on. I slide the door open as the crying starts to reach a fevered pitch. There in the middle of the back deck is the missing boy. Pajama pants around his ankles, the morning dew covers his feet. I notice he has mud on his legs. 'What are you doing outside Wildman?' He looks up from his feet. 'I had to go potty, I had to go potty'. Pitiful. It dawns on me. Potty? Outside? It didn't rain yesterday. Rain turns dirt to mud. How can he have mud on his legs? Wait a damn minute...
sidenote to the nerds, Sam, reading this. I know the pictured Turtle is not Raphael. I did not have a pic of him in such a dramatic pose at my disposal.
#charlotte, #charlottechildcare, #poointheyard, #cantbetrusted
