Thursday, March 5, 2009

CPS Before Breakfast

We know Parker hates taking out the dogs. He started a diary 2 weeks ago that he told us was filled with "secrets" and we weren't to read it. But several times that first day, he toted this book out, lay it down in front of us and said, "Don't read this. It's all my secrets." Finally, after half a dozen times, I asked if maybe he wanted to show us what his secrets were. To which he enthusiastically opened the notebook.

It was filled with shocking secrets like -
"Sometimes I hurt my knee and don't tell."
"Sometimes I just throw my clean clothes on the closet floor and not where they go."
"I hate taking the dogs out."
And finally, "Sometimes I lie about taking the dogs out."

So, this morning, since Parker was the first one up and woke up the puppy, I sent him to let the dogs out. As a sort of punishment.

"But I'm in my underwear. Can I just put a blanket on and go out?"

"Sure, just go out the back." But after 5 minutes with no return of dogs or Parker, I went to see what was happening.

Harley was running around the yard with someone else's newspaper in her mouth and Parker and Kona were nowhere to be seen. Panicking and realizing what he went outside wearing, I called out and got no response. I became increasingly louder as I headed out of the driveway. Then I got a faraway response, "I'm here, Mom."

Frantically, I ran out of the driveway and caught sight of my son, on the next street over in his underwear, blanket and snowboots coming out from behind a neighbor's house. At that moment, I had the thought scream through my mind - what I have I done in my life to get here right now?

I responded in the most logical way I could think, "Wha-? Parker, get here now. RUN!" And my son came clomping toward me as I scanned the windows of the houses he was running past to make sure there were no witnesses.

"Kona ran away. I was chasing him. He went into the bushes behind the red house. I was going to get him when you made me come back."

I grabbed the keys, got in the car and scooped up my son so we could go search for the dog.

"Did you see him go behind the house there?"

"No, but all the neighbors I talked to said they saw him go there."

"How many neighbors did you talk to?"

"Oh, 4."

4? Oh boy. I don't think we'll be invited to any barbecues any time soon. As a matter of fact, I think it's most of a miracle that they didn't report us to the authorities.