I Should Have Bought Stock In Rolaids

As a parent, there is nothing that makes your gibleys lodge in your throat more than not being able to find one of your children. It's like riding a roller coaster, getting to the top of the hill, and then stopping.

Tonight, Ange and Ciera went to a wedding at church, which led to me picking up Frank and Jesse at our friend Cathy's house. (Somehow Angie convinced her to keep the two heathens until I got off work) Since she'd taken them to the park, first thing I did once we got home was introduce the two of them to a tub of hot water and a bar of soap, which led to 37 arguments over how long Trot could stay in the tub and play.

Turns out it was 7 minutes, 'cause the next thing I knew he was standing next to me with a towel over his head, dripping water and mumbling his Sponge Bob bath toy was on the ceiling. Don't ask me how these things just tend to happen.

After getting them in their pajamas and starting the macaroni and cheese for dinner, I made the mistake of deciding to trim my goatee, thinking the dual threat of Max and Ruby on tv plus they both skipped a nap would keep things safe.

3 minutes later I exit my bedroom and see Rakes sitting calmly on the couch doodling on his dry erase board.

Me: Where's Trot, son?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

Me: Is he in your room?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

Me: What's your name?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

He's a huge helper, that first son of mine.

First thing I did was check the door leading to the garage, which led to a brief moment of panic when I realized I hadn't locked the chain at the top. Fortunately, the garage door was still down which meant I at least had him in a contained area. However, 30 minutes later after I'd searched every square inch of the house, including the attic and I STILL couldn't find him and I was wondering if the little sucker had gotten the garage door remote out of my car and headed to parts unknown.

After yelling myself hoarse, checking and re-checking every closet and laundry basket in the house I was THIS close to breathing into a paper bag when I came down the stairs and for the first time, looked to my right under the table we've got behind the sofa.

There he sat. In his Cars pajamas, hair standing straight up while calmly eating his brothers lolly pop. He'd been there the WHOLE time while I minute by minute lost my nerves, cool, and patience.

Me: WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER ME?

Trot: Tause I was eating Rakes sucker.

Me: BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER ME?

Trot: Is the mac and cheese done, Dad? Me hungry.

Me: BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER ME?

Trot: Tause I was eating Rakes sucker. Can I have my mac and cheese now?

Obviously this could have gone on all night. So I did what any self-respecting Dad would do; I threatened him within an inch of his life, got the lolly pop away from him and gave him his mac and cheese.

I'd like to find Dr. Spock and introduce him to Trot.