When my son really got good at crawling he would routinely disappear from view around a corner or through a door. At the shout of his name he would usually come scooting back into the room. But one day, he did not scoot back. He was (dramatic music) MISSING!
I had been sitting on the couch watching something on TV that I don’t remember now but I’m sure was highly compelling. Probably something like C-SPAN or Impractical Jokers. The boy was wallowing around on the floor between me and the TV entertaining himself in ways only a toddler can understand. Then he fired up his scoot muscles and crawled out of the room, into the foyer area where, in the house we lived in at the time, our stairs to the second floor were.
I shouted his name. “Boy!” I shouted, but he did not return. I shouted again. “Hey, boy!” Still, no sign of the boy. I figured I ought to investigate, so I waited until the next commercial and then headed toward the foyer and that’s where I found him. He sat there at the foot of the stairs looking at me and happily eating a hot dog out of a pool of dog vomit. A couple of hours before, I had fed our dog half a pack of expired hot dogs. I guess they didn’t agree with the dog, but the boy loved them!
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