The Great Outdoors

My mom used to tell a story about how she was taking a bath one afternoon when she heard an urgent knock at the door. She opened the door to find the Mailman with my twin and I under each arm. Apparently, we figured out how to unlatch the front door and were running around the neighborhood clad only in our diapers. Steve and I used to mime pot smoking when she told the story, thinking the only way a kid could escape the house is if his mom were stoned to the bajeezus.

Consider this my formal apology.

Friday was a real character builder for Diana. If you are a child psychiatrist, you’d say Elijah was pushing boundaries. If you are anyone but a child psychiatrist, you’d say Elijah was being a jerk-face. Despite being so tired he could only communicate in screams, no amount of pleading and begging would keep Eli in his room for naptime. Finally, Diana resorted to locking his bedroom door so he could at least sit calmly for a while.

Eventually, Diana opened his door to check on him. It look like he had pulled the pin on a toddler grenade. Or that the CIA had conducted a thorough search for something incredibly small in his room. The place was destroyed.

Diana was overcome by the thought, “I’m about to have another son,” and went into our room to lay down and wonder if gypsies made house calls.

After about 5 seconds of temple massaging, Diana was ready to face our son again. She saw that he had slipped out of his room, undetected. Di went downstairs and looked for him. Nope. Basement? Nope.

She looked out our front door. He was standing on our front lawn, waiting for Diana with a poo eating grin on his face. It was raining and he was naked except for diapers.

It’s a phase, right? Right?