Wednesday, February 11, 2009

It's come home to roost?

Apparently when I was a small girl I had a bit of a habit of walking off. As you know, there are 3 older than me and it was doubtless a little hard to keep track of all 4 of us in the summer. Especially when I did the walking off bit. There's one particular story about me in a pair of pink pumps with a pink hat and handbag on my arm taking a stroll down the L-shaped alley. All were looking for me when my dad came around the corner with me on the motorcycle. Apparently we had met near the street and he offered me a ride home.

Meanwhile, it was crazy warm here yesterday - 59 degrees. So, I picked up the kids a little early and promised a bike ride when we got home. Harry came in and opened the garage and went about the bike extraction business while I carried Suzy in to get her out of her seat and into the sling. I was in the house for a 3 minutes, came out and Harry was gone.

Gone.

My first thought: 'Who took him?'
My second thought: 'He probably went around the block on his bike.'
My third thought: 'Who took him?'

So the neighbor when one way while I went the other and frantically called my mom. And Harry came around the corner very proud of himself.

My mom stopped by on her way home and said, 'It's come home to roost.'

Stupid apple and the tree business.

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