I sat down at the computer to type up the PTSA minutes. Isaac was playing happily in his room. After 30 minutes or so, I thought it seemed kind of quiet, so I called out to him. No answer.
I went in his room--he wasn't there. So I started looking for him, calling out his name, in all the rooms in the house. Our house just isn't that big, so I quickly discovered that he wasn't in any of the rooms in our house. I checked outside, even though all doors leading outside were locked. I checked closets, under beds, under blankets and bedding. I looked in the garage. I checked everywhere again, and a third time. I even opened the dryer door, in a desperate attempt to find my child. By this time, I was imagining the worst and getting upset and praying and playing out in my mind the call to Stephen at work that I lost our son and he needed to come home. I was about to enlist the neighbor's help.
ISAAC!!! Where are you?
About 10 minutes of this horror passed before I pushed aside the shirts in my closet and saw two beautiful little feet behind them. He had fallen asleep behind my clothes in my closet, something he has NEVER even come close to doing before. I grabbed him and gave him a big hug and held him close, and moved him out onto the couch.
He's still sleeping peacefully, through it all.