Call me a terrible mother. Max was ten weeks old the first time I left him alone. I had to pee and didn’t want to carry 10+ pounds of baby up the stairs to the bathroom with me. I left him grunting and wiggling on his belly on a blanket in the middle of our living room floor.
When I race walked back into the living room less than 3 minutes later, all I saw was an empty blanket, tugged slightly askew. Max wasn’t there!
At first I thought I was hallucinating. I’d heard that sometimes happened to sleep-deprived new Moms. Trembling but fighting to remain calm, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then I exhaled slowly and peeped between my eye lashes. Still no Max!
My heart hammered in my ears as I reviewed the facts: (1)We were alone in the house. (2)All the doors and windows were shut and locked. (3)Our two Siamese cats weren’t creating a ruckus, which is what they did anytime we had company. That meant, unless a ninja baby stealer had broken in and stolen my son — without our crazy Siamese sounding the alarm — Max was somewhere in the house.
At that point, I did what any self-respecting new Mom home alone with a missing baby and two cats would do. I yelled for the Siamese, “Tatsu! Zeus!” Come!” Eight little feet hit the hardwood floor in the nearby dining room. Tatsu and Zeus trotted into the living room, ears cocked and tails in the air. They were ready for whatever game I had I mind.
“Where’s Max?” I asked, my voice cracking on my son’s name.
Tatsu, our older cat, stared at me for a moment: his calm blue eyes met my frightened brown. Then he walked onto Max’s blanket, lowered his head and sniffed it. Almost without pause Tatsu walked to a wing back chair, which was about 7 feet away. He glanced over his should at me, I assume to make sure I was watching.
I ran across the room and lifted the dust ruffle that covered the chair’s legs. And saw my son’s little feet! I hauled him out from under the chair. And saw that he had clumps of carpet fibers in his little fists. Max had dragged himself over the carpet and under the chair!
Our son is 24 now. For the past two years he’s been living on his own, but today our son is moving back home. We know that it’s temporary, but we figure there will be a few more heart bumps while he’s here. Welcome home, son!