A Loss of Innocence

I was going to write about the innocence of my child’s first encounter with a lizard today, but instead I have something else to tell you about.
I officially “lost” my child today. We went to Layne’s birthday party today, and my child was actually a non-violent participant in the event. I was afraid that he wouldn’t be, considering he fell asleep four minutes into our ten-minute drive, but he pulled through and was not horrible. That does not mean I am saying that my child showed everyone what an angel he can be, but he also didn’t show his worst side.
But, I almost did.
I was sitting on the floor watching Layne open gifts, and watching my child wander around the edge of all the activity, finding other toys to play with since he couldn’t go outside again. I looked at the cute shirts that Reid and Layne got, each one blaming someone else for whatever was done. I looked back to my child, and then noticed that I didn’t see my child. Knowing that he was only moments ago four feet away from me at the opening of a hallway, I figured he went down the hallway to the bedrooms. So, I searched, each room, and in between each room, looking down the hallway. After I still didn’t find him, and he still wasn’t in the mix of kids opening gifts, then I got scared. Maybe he found something in the laundry room, but I didn’t hear him, so it must have been something “good.” It was good all right, because he found an open door that led him to the outside. The outside that is the front yard, not the safety of the fenced-in backyard. I have never had fear like the fear of an open door and a missing child with a highway on the other side of the trees. I turned the corner and found him, trying to climb into a little car outside. Tears of relief immediately filled my eyes, as I grabbed my child to me, telling him that he had scared me. Did he care? Heck no! He was more upset that I had picked him up and taken him away from the car! I brought him back inside and made sure that the door was shut, then let him go back to finding toys inside while I used the safety of the laundry room to learn how to breathe again and wipe away my tears.
The hardest part was telling my husband how the party went, because as I was telling him, I got all teary-eyed again, and all he could do was laugh and say, “You lost our son!”
Meanie.