Monday, August 17, 2009


Eleven minutes. That's how long I just left my eight year old home alone. Bug's piano lesson was a group lesson today and I didn't need to stick around. I gave Pook the option of staying home alone while I drove his brother over. He calmly said he would. I confirmed with him that he was sure it was ok. Then I reminded him of basic rules: don't answer the door, ignore the phone unless you see that it's Daddy, stay inside, call me if you need to. I turned on my "cellophone" (I love that word my kids still use!) and headed out to the car with Bug. Pook sat down with his book. I popped back in. "I'll lock the door, ok?" "And I'll close the garage door." "Daddy might come home while I'm gone because it might storm soon." "I think I'll leave the garage door up for him, just in case." "Are you going to be ok?" He mumbled something and permitted me to kiss him before I exited again. I locked the door behind me, but made sure the key was in the lock, inside. I checked the time and put my cell phone in my lap. Red light #1- a long one. Red light #2- barely missed going, another long one. I turned into the subdivision and pulled up at Piano Teacher's home. "Learn something!" I blew Bug a kiss and turned the car around. The two left turns were simple right turns on the way home. I pulled in the garage and stopped the car. I called out my "I'm back" both as I was unlocking the door (so he wouldn't worry and would know it was just me) and again after I opened the door. No answer. I peeked into the den. Pook was sitting in the leather chair, reading. "You did it! Were you a little bit worried?" He looked at me blankly. "Just a little bit afraid while I was gone?"

"No. I kind of forgot."


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