Escapades

escapade [ˈɛskəˌpeɪd ˌɛskəˈpeɪd]

n

1. a wild or exciting adventure, esp one that is mischievous or unlawful; scrape

2. any lighthearted or carefree episode; prank; romp

This is what happens when you lose sight of Mary for sixty seconds. I'm just grateful that the headline doesn't read: "Diaper-Clad Toddler Escapes Down Street." We were playing in the back yard, Mary fully clothed until she dumped water all over her dress and I decided to let her play without her wet clothes since it was nearly 80 degrees. Our yard wraps around the house such that there are very few vantage spots (none?) where a mama can see all parts of the yard where her children might be, while she sits comfortably in a lawn chair reading a book. I end up having to be on my feet following kids around much of the time we are having outdoor play time (and you can guess how much fun that is when I'm pregnant and aching). Perhaps some have thought I'm over cautious for keeping such a sharp eye out on the kids and calling when I can't see them around the bend, but the above is how I found Mary when she'd been out of my sight for all of sixty seconds. (She also learned how to unlatch the gates a few weeks ago, so she doesn't even need to exert the energy to climb them anymore.)

I was working in the kitchen with Mary when I heard her running back into the room, singing joyfully, "I found it! I found it! Yay yay yay!" She was hauling the stool from the bathroom, which she set up to reach pretzels and salsa I had left on the counter. I was struck that she didn't even bother asking me for help when I was in the same room, and thought it would be easier or more satisfying to go to the effort to get it herself.

She quickly abandoned the pretzels to eat the whole bowl of salsa with her hands. This girl loves spicy food.

When Chris was with the kids all day on Saturday, he reported to me that he'd lost Mary in the house for a couple of minutes. He found her inside the utility room with the cat's litter box (thankfully, not in it). The little stinker did the same thing to me today when we were in the kitchen together. I actually thought I could turn my back on the child--who was in the same room with me--for several whole seconds, and when I turned around she had vanished and would not respond verbally to my calling for her. It was only because of Chris' story that I so quickly thought to check in the utility room. Mary had stealthily and silently climbed through the cat door and was happily standing in there, in the dark.