So, I get done with my little e-rant and go down to watch a movie with the kids. 2of3 was outside playing with his friends and before I knew it, it was past 9 (it doesn't even think about getting dark here until 9:30). I go outside to retrieve my kid, and he's no where to be found. I holler for him for a while, which usually works, but nothing. I assume he's gone to his friends' house, so I go over there to get him. Nope, no kid. I go to the other friends' house, and no luck either. It is now A) dark out, B) raining, and C) closer to 10 than I was comfortable with. So, what do I do? I freak the fuck out, that's what.
We live in a small little neighborhood. It's more or less a cul-de-sac surrounded by some impressively thick forest on the side of a mountain. There are lots of places to crack your skull open/drown to death.
I start searching the creek that runs behind our house for his body, I go digging through he woods, looking in trees and on the ground. I am hysterical. I can't talk but to shout his name, I can't think. I can't do anything. He is no where. He's gone. I about died.
The oldest has the baby in the house and I see him holding her in the other end of the street, shouting for his brother. My neighbor, the dad of the kid he was playing with, comes out to help me look. And then, and then, we hear him. And then we see him.
He was deep, deep in the woods playing in trees with the other friend, whose house we checked, whose parents told me that 2of3 wasn't there, but didn't bother to mention that their little bundle of 11 year old joy was with him.
I am not pretending that this even comes close to the feeling of having a child actually go missing, like forever, but for 20 minutes or so last night, I had to comb the woods for my son's dead body. I have never, ever been so out of my mind scared in my whole life.
That kid can argue dinner with me all he wants. Of course, I'm never letting him play outside ever, ever again, but at least he doesn't have to eat his green beans.