Yeah, he's my kid...

Over a year ago Ben found my VHS copy of Phntasm II and wanted to watch it. I kept explaining to him that it wasn't his kind of movie, and he got very upset. I finally had to hide it from him.

Somehow last night he found it while I wasn't looking, and I got out of the shower this morning to find him watching the tape. I shudder to think what Sara would do if she heard this. On the upside, it seems like all he really wants to watch is the first 30 seconds, which consist of a black screen with some ominous music growing in the background as the title fades in. Before Reggie and Mike show up, he rewinds it and watches it again.

It seems like I was about two years older before I discovered Phantasm, but there you go.

My worst nightmare come true

This morning it finally happened, my very worst nightmare come true... and it was more terrifying that even I had imagined. In the end everything was fine, but not before twenty solid minutes of pure abject terror.

After making my previous journal entry I went to take my shower while Ben was watching his tape. Just your basic normal Saturday morning around my place. I took a nice long, hot shower. I dried myself off. I poked my head around the corner to check up on Ben...

...and the front door was wide open.

I immediately pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and ran outside looking for him, but there was no sign of him. Barefoot in the rain I ran around the apartment complex to his most likely destinations, no sign of him. I ran back home and put on my shoes and socks, and grabbed my keys and my cell phone. I took a quick look around the apartment to see if he was hiding there somewhere and to see if he had changed out of his pajamas.

It's cold and drizzly out, and he was in his white pajamas and wearing his roller skates.

I knocked on the door of my downstairs neighbor to ask if they had seen him. They said they had heard him try to open the door about 15 minutes earlier, but they assumed he was with me and didn't think anything of it. They immediately put on their shoes and came out to help me look. We split up into different directions.

I walked the entire apartment complex looking for him and calling his name. Maybe he walked into somebody's house and they have no idea who he is... maybe if they hear me calling his name they will put it together and flag me down...

I stopped by the apartment office to ask if they had seen him. No. Right away the maintenance guy took off to start looking as well.

I thought about running over to the Safeway to see if he went looking for candy. I thought about running over to his school. Two absolute different directions, either or both could be wrong... to much time has gone by...

I called 911.

I was doubling back across the apartment complex as I explained the situation to the 911 operator. She had several police units in the area, they were all being notified with his description as I was talking to her. A unit was on its way to my apartment. The panic was bleeding out of every cell of my body, but I was trying to remain focused and do what needed to be done to increase the odds of him being found. I knew that time was of the essence. I kept thinking about that little autistic boy in Florida who actually wandered onto a cruise ship and wound up 400 miles from home before he was found. I kept thinking about how busy 75th street is... how busy 35th avenue is... how busy 40th avenue is... if he went any of those directions would he stop for traffic? Would traffic stop for him in time? Was I going to find him by the sound of sirens and the flashing of red and blue lights rushing to the scene of an accident?

I came around the corner of my building and saw my neighbor holding his hand and leading him back down the hill to my apartment.

I almost collapsed right then in relief.

I told the 911 operator that he had been found, that everything was all right and to cancel the alert.

He had gone to his school. He made it on roller skates up the hill on the side of the road with no side walk. He had crossed the intersection of 77th and 40th, which is *not* a four way stop -- any car could have been coming along on 40th and could have killed him. From the dirt stains on his pajamas he had fallen down at least once.

Oh jesus fucking christ he has no idea how badly he scared me, and all because I forgot to set the chain locks on the doors. I always do it reflexively whenever we come home, and somehow I forgot last night. He could have gotten up in the middle of the night and done the same thing, and I might not have noticed for hours. My own stupidity and lack of attention to detail could very well have gotten him killed.

Oh jesus.