Ella ran away to the neighbors house last week. She told me she was thinking about it earlier in the day and I just sort of acted nonchalant about it and then told her about the time I ran away as a little girl. Of course, I only made it to the end of the driveway and decided I was hungry and turned around.
Later that afternoon I was working in the office and she came and told me that she was going to run away then.
I said ok.
Because I really thought she was kidding, people. Not because I actually thought she was going to do it. And who tells their mom they are running away and then actually does it?
I heard the kitchen door shut and then reopen. And shut again. And reopen. This went on (off and on) for the next 10 minutes or so and I just figured she was playing on the side porch.
Until I went into the kitchen and saw that the door was unlatched and that the wind was making it open and shut.
I looked outside for her and didn't see her a.n.y.w.h.e.r.e.
I yelled for her and didn't get an answer.
Insert terrible mom guilt at this moment. And a slight bit of panic.
I start to think about my options and glance out the window one more time. This time I see her turning back into our driveway from the road, dragging her blanket and pillow pet behind her.
By the time she makes it in the door she is crying. And we have a nice long talk about some important things. You know, what would be a better choice to take to pack if she ever really wants to run away. Toothbrush and clean underwear were my suggestions. And where would be the most fun place to run away to. I personally would go to the beach.
But mostly I talked about how much I would miss her if she ever decided to run away again.
Silly girl... (who learned a very valuable lesson that day.)
Silly mom... (who learned a very valuable lesson that day.)
Jesus follower. After that I'm happily married, mom to four, homeschooler, traveler, photographer, and never one to turn down a good cup of coffee.
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