Yesterday, Peter called me to tell me that Nathaniel (4) and his friend Charlie (3) snuck away from their teachers and class during the daily arroyo walk, and were found on the sidewalk of a busy street, next to a recycling bin, throwing empties.
Hi.
That is so crazy!
And I’m having the classic Walsh reaction to tragedy/tragedy narrowly averted: every time I think about it, I giggle. Nervous laughter, I guess. Or complete and total joy that THEY’RE STILL ALIVE.
Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel. I did one of those things where I hugged him tightly, then admonished him sternly, repeat. I saw Charlie’s mom last night at a parent meeting for Honoree’s class and we just looked at each other. Like, Oh. My. God. She, too, alternated expressions of dismay and hilarity. “They pulled a Tom and Huck,” I said.
And in case any of you are wondering, Nathaniel is still having a lot of fun at school with the phrase “butt crack.” And that is now relegated to the category of a “smallie.”













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