20 more minutes until bedtime

Quote from last night's post, "....20 more minutes until bedtime."  A lot can happen in 20 minutes.  Perhaps nobody knows this better than me.  Here's how those 20(ish) minutes played out.  Aaron comes up to me and says, "I want waffle, peanut butter and sugar."  So I put a waffle in the toaster oven, tell daughter to come help me clean the kitchen, and then go to the bathroom.  Before I go though, I notice that Aaron goes into the backyard.  (It's fully fenced).  Come back out of the bathroom and realize I don't hear him outside. Then remember I latched the fence gate, but I didn't lock it.  I look outside and sure enough he and the puppy were out.  Puppy was still in the front yard (which is a miracle), but no Aaron--remember, all I did was go to the bathroom!  I did a couple of door knocks, and a cul-de-sac check. When they turned up empty I got to do my 911 call.  It's been a year since I've gotten to talk to the nice people there.  The best part is always "what is he wearing from head to toe?"  "Well, IF he has clothes on then he's wearing....xyz."  Nothing better than getting to put that IF in there.  Police are dispatched.  I then call husband, and he's on his way.  Then I call our long time friends (he happens to be a detective with a different sheriff's office and lives in our neighborhood).  All I have to say is, "Aaron's missing."  He says ok, and hangs up (that means he's on his way).  In the meantime my daughter is running through the neighborhood in bare feet looking for him and asks a neighbor kid if he has seen Aaron (this kid knows Aaron, and is in his grade at school).   Neighbor kid gets his dad and they get on their bikes.  Police show up fast.  I show him a picture of Aaron (always keep a picture of your kids on your cell phone).  The officer tells me they have two other cars out looking for him, he wants to make sure I've looked through every nook and cranny of the house.  I have, but tell him I'll go do it again.  I go back through the house, and back through the backyard.  No Aaron.  I go back in the front yard, and the neighbor kid yells that he's found him.  There's Aaron, sitting on top of the next door neighbor's lifted Chevy Tahoe.  He wasn't there a second ago.  My detective friend rides up on his bike at this time and goes over to Aaron to get him off of the car while I go talk to the police officer who calls off the search.  Friend says, "Aaron", to which Aaron replies, "I sorry, I sorry". 

Disaster averted, and this time he didn't ruin anyone's personal property! In the house he goes.  I give police officer a hug and off he goes.  Husband drives up and goes in the house with Aaron while I finish talking with the different people who were out looking for Aaron.  As I'm walking back in the house I realize that I look about as white trash as they come!  I've got on sweats with paint all over them and a hole in the butt, my shirt has paint all over it too, and my hair is up in a ratty mess.  (I was planning on working on the house).  Classy.  I'm mortified that I looked that way, but thankful that the media didn't show up--how embarrassing would it have been to look like that!  Hey I'm allowed to be a little shallow.  Mostly though I'm thankful for the people that once again helped look for Aaron, and that he came home safe.