Yesterday my 2 year old son made an ass out of me by running out the preschool doors while my back was turned putting on Cassie's coat. Not only was I frantic, emotional and panic-stricken, I was also feeling like the worst-mom-ever.
Turns out he just wanted to get back into the van and go home. He was sick of waiting around for his sisters and therefore planned the perfect escape. He made it all the way to the van without the crowds of parents picking up their kids noticing (not that it's their responsibility...clearly it's my own). Thankfully, he stayed on the sidewalk and just stood next to the vehicle *waiting*. Then he kicked and screamed when a strange woman picked him up to give back to me. I gave an embarrassed "Thank you" to the woman, grabbed my boy, the girls, and walked away.
With tears rolling down my face and my tail wrapped between my legs I got into my van with all 3 kids accounted for, and drove away.
Parenthood is hard. Fortunately, what could have happened, didn't. And now I am defiantly more aware of what Braydon is capable of, and what him and I need to work on in the future.
I probably knocked off a few years of my life yesterday...eh...but those are the diaper years anyway.