Children...

My son did the unthinkable last night. He ran away. Okay, granted he's 2 and a half and he "ran away" in a shopping center sidewalk with me hot on his heels, but my two year old can book!

The part that scared me what that 6 feet to his right was a parking lot and people tear through it. I was mortified! To him, he was just running. I was envisioning his tiny head meeting a car bumper. I was yelling "stop" and by the time I caught up to him he was a good 25 yards from where we started. At one point I had to stop and kick my shoes off for fear of breaking my ankle. I finally caught him and did the whole, "You didn't listen to Mommy! That was bad! You stop running when Mommy tells you to stop..." yadda yadda yadda. My husband finally got to us and calmly said, "You're getting your first spanking" (gave him a swat on the butt through his diaper) and with a wagging finger said, "You listen to your mother when she tells you to stop." My son then realized he was in trouble and looked at me with his big blue eyes as if to say, "I thought we were having fun!" and began to wail. The whole thing was very heartbreaking for all of us.

Needless to say we didn't get ice cream and he went straight to bed after we got home. I cried the whole drive home (5 miles) and my son didn't say a word. At that point I wondered if I'd really gotten through to him or just made him mad. Then, I realized I didn't care if he was mad. I wanted him to be scared of the consequences of running away from us. Then, I thought about how many times I'd heard from my own parents, "We got mad because we just didn't want you to get hurt. We didn't do it to be mean." DAMN! Why did they always have to make sense, but I didn't listen or believe. I get it now. I totally get it.