The Wanderer

We have tried to teach our kid manners. Honest. We did not train him to rifle your cupboards when we come to visit. It must have been the daycare lady. We also wish he was slightly less inclined to wander off on his own. For those of you who get exasperated because your kids are afraid of the dark? It’s also not so great having one that has no qualms about going for a stroll at eleven at night…by himself.

He’s been this way for as long as he’s been mobile. And yes, he has scared us to the point of someone sleeping on the couch on more than one occasion. (Come on, parents, admit it. You've all had the "I thought you were watching him!" fight.) At least it’s better now that we live on the ranch, away from traffic and abduction-minded strangers and the big irrigation ditch that ran right in front of our house in Oregon.

Not long before we moved back to Montana, my husband and Logan were home alone. Greg was shoeing a horse. Logan was playing with his tractors in the sand nearby. Nice thing about Hermiston, the whole place is one big sandbox. Greg hammered in the last two nails, set the horse’s foot down, and turned to check on Logan.

Gone.

He had sixty seconds head start, max. The pickup and trailer were parked between the barn and the house. Greg zipped around it to check the other side. No Logan. He hustled into the house, figuring Logan had gone for snacks. Not there.

Uh-oh. The irrigation ditch.

He sprinted outside and through the twenty yards of sagebrush to the ditch. No boy in sight. By now, Greg was in a panic, yelling for Logan, for all the good it did, because he didn’t ever feel the need to answer. Greg dashed back toward the house--just in time to see Logan come strolling out of the neighbor’s driveway, munching a strawberry Pop-Tart. Definitely one of those if-I-weren’t-so-happy-to-see-you-I’d-kill-you moments.

Especially when Greg realized the neighbor wasn’t even home.