That’s right, my youngest, my baby, is five years old today. In just a few minutes, I will bail from DadLabs World HQ and head over to the pre-school to enjoy special cupcakes with the man of the hour.
I was almost unavailable for the festivities, because the birthday boy nearly sent me into cardiac arrest this week. On Saturday morning at about 7am, Kim sat bolt upright and charged out of the room. The I heard that special tone that is reserved for when she is genuinely afraid.”
“Coop. Coop.”
She runs into the bedroom.
“Coop is gone. The lights are on in his room. I heard him call Mommy, then I heard a crash and the door slam. Now he’s gone.”
I’m groggy, running through the house, heart pounding, calling his name. Sure enough, his room is empty, he’s nowhere to be found. I check every room. Dread is rising in my chest. I contemplate the possibility of a kidnapping. Impossible.
I throw on shorts and begin circling the house shouting his name. Wider and wider circles, trying not to become panicked. On about the third pass around, I see a boy walking down the road, followed by two grown-ups. But he’s too big. My youngest couldn’t be that big.
It’s Coop, of course, crying. He has walked a block, up to the dining hall (we live on an a boarding school campus) where he was discovered by a staffer. She was returning him. I asked him why he left the house.
“It was so quiet.”
Which made no sense for a while. Then I figured it out. On the weekends, when Coop wakes up, he heads into the TV room, where his older brother (our early riser) is watching cartoons. But Bubba was on an overnight. So when Coop came out, all was quiet. He became convinced he’d been left behind (always a worry for third children), and that we’d already headed up for breakfast.
His mom picked him up (I was worried she would throw out her back), and asked him why he hadn’t come in the bedroom to find us. No answer. But that was okay.
So, Happy Birthday, Coop. And please never do that again.
Has your kid ever given you a scare like that?
