Last night, The Roc and I went out for our usual post-dinner, pre-bath walk. He took the trike, I walked. About halfway through our usual loop around the park, The Roc stopped short and jumped off the trike.
"Mommy, I want to walk home."
It was a long way, and Mommy's back is not what it used to be, so I told him I couldn't carry the trike all the way home. He jumped back on and raced off in the direction of home.
By the time I caught up with him, we were about halfway there. I stopped him and gave him a stern lecture about the dangers of riding his trike too fast and told him if he didn't slow down and ride alongside me the rest of the way home he would not be seeing his trike again for a long, long time.
Finally, we turned into our driveway. The Roc abandoned his trike in the driveway and ran inside. I shouted for him to come back and put the trike in the garage, but he was long gone.
Exasperated, I put away the trike, locked the garage, and went inside, where Daddy was sitting on the couch.
"Where is he?" I demanded.
"In the bathroom. He must have needed to go pretty bad, because he ran right past me."
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