The police car pulled up to the curb on that damp cold night. The burly young officer opened the passenger door to reveal a giggling toddler ensconced on the front seat, replete with dirty diaper and chocolate grin. His grandmother scooped to retrieve him, relief radiating from the clouds in her eyes. It had been a terrifying half hour, but Marty was home safely. The evening had started innocently enough. It was a rare night out. Maura and Marty headed to Grandma’s for some evening fun. But what ensued that evening was anything but amusing.
The February darkness came early, and chilling rain covered the frozen concrete. Grandma and her charges were snuggled warmly on the couch, reading the tale of Cinderella. Nobody noticed when Marty wandered away. Even if they had noticed, they wouldn’t have worried. He rarely stayed till the end of stories, and made his own fun with random things around the house. But as Cinderella and Prince Charming declared happily ever after, Maura and Grandma started wondering about the boy. He was nowhere to be found.
A frantic search of the entire house revealed no two and a half year old boy playing tricks or fallen asleep. He had vanished like the coachman at the stroke of midnight. They broadened their search outside, and enlisted the help of several neighbor boys. Still no sign of the two year old. It was about this time, apparently, that Marty was found wandering the darkened roadway by a kindly woman. He had been trying to walk home. He had left the house of his Grandma, crossed the street, and turned the corner onto a street with no sidewalks, all in his socks. He did not seem alarmed by the ride in the police car nor the end to his evening escapade. His Grandma and sister were alarmed enough for all of them.
When the (thankfully) oblivious parents returned from dinner, Maura met them at the door. “Marty hid from Grandma and I,” her singsong voice implored. The understatement of the year. But all’s well that ends well, especially when you miss all the drama!
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