I went in to wake up Harry and Zoe for school as usual, and Harry wasn’t in his bed. Not a big deal… he does this. He goes to sleep in my bed sometimes.
I went into my room to wake him up, and he wasn’t there. Hmmmmm. Maybe he was buried under covers in his bed, or on the floor, under the long table by his bed (maybe he’s hiding and messing with me).
I rechecked his bed and the area around it- no Harry.
Went back to my room- not under covers, not on the floor by the bed.
Starting to get a little nervous.
I check the bathrooms- Zoe is in one, the others are empty.
My teens are still home at this point- they check their rooms, and no Harry.
I go downstairs and check every room. No Harry. The couches- vacant.
I return to my room- check my closet, the floor all over, the bed… no Harry.
I’m having images of the Eisenberg baby and other children who were taken from their rooms in the middle of the night. Ironically, I actually locked the doors last night. Where’s my son?
I check under his bed, under Zoe’s bed, calling his name loudly now. I check the hallway, the laundry area, recheck the teens’ rooms, the bathrooms, my closet, my bed…. no Harry.
It’s probably time to call the police. How can this happen to us???? We’re going to be one of those sad stories of a child snatched from his own bedroom just before his birthday… Well, the first few hours are the most important. Must call.
I go into my bedroom to call, and Harry is wandering around in there. He looks a little dazed and bewildered.
He shrugs his shoulders, puts his hands palms up, and says, “I fell asleep under your bed!!” I picked him up, sat him on my lap as I sat on the bed, and hugged and rocked him.
OMG.
