A couple of Sunday’s ago Amanda was out for the day and I was watching the boys. We had a nice time, first running a few errands and then going out to lunch. At 3:00 or so we came home and I settled in with the newspaper while Alex and Sam went upstairs to play and watch cartoons. A couple of hours later I realized that my reading hadn’t been interrupted by any crashes or screams from upstairs. Naturally I became concerned.
I went up to check on them. We have an open area on the second floor that we use as a playroom. Alex was sitting on the floor contentedly watching a DVD. But Sam was nowhere in sight. Usually they are pretty inseparable, Sam sticks to his older brother like glue and Alex includes Sam in most of his shenanigans. I asked Alex if he knew where Sam was and he said he hadn’t seen him in a while. Curious where he got off to I started looking around for him.
I went into their room, no luck. Next stop was our bedroom, followed by the Bathrooms and then the closets. Now I was starting to get a little anxious. I searched around the upstairs, checking every room. No sign of him. I rushed downstairs—maybe he snuck down and I somehow didn’t notice. Nope, he wasn’t on the first floor either. Now I was worried. I hurried to the front door; it was still locked, thank God.
As I headed back up the stairs I was greatly relieved to hear Alex call out “Daddy, I found him.” When I got to the top I looked around but still didn’t see him. Alex, standing in the middle of their playroom, lifted up his arm and pointed. There, in plain sight, was Sam; the little guy had climbed into a toy storage bin filled with some of their stuffed animals and fallen asleep. He was quietly snoring away, no doubt dreaming of Reese’s Pieces, as I settled down with Alex to watch cartoons.