Blips in parental togetherness.

Every so often, I have a moment of parental freakout. An example of this (because I can't describe it better than to say it is sort of like a brain freeze) happened the other day when I was walking Mr. Gabe (leashed, of course) and Toddler Monster (unleashed, of course).

Picture this: In our n'hood, we take walks on a boulevard, where there is a lovely grassed area between the lanes where TM can run and hide behind trees. We usually walk with Mr. Gabe on the street because traffic comes from only one direction (and we can see it coming from a ways away). TM runs in zig zags, so on walks I'm usually on heightened alert---she moves quickly from the sidewalk to the road to the grassy center between lanes.

She does this thing where she climbs up onto the sidewalk and then pretends she is leaving us.

"Bye bye," she waves. This while running straight ahead and looking sideways.

*Sigh*

Anyway, this one day she decided to climb some steps to a long, dark alley, where she could see a dog barking in someone's backyard. Sweeeeet.

"Doggie dog!" And she was off to investigate.

"Hold on," I said. "I can't come back there with Gabe! Wait just a sec, sweetie! STOP!"

She keeps going. Of course.

Thoughts running through my head at that point included:

1. I can't take Gabe back there because there will be a dogfight.
2. And then she will be traumatized by that.
3. And what if that dog is aggressive with children?
4. She will try to pet the dog through the fence.
5. I have to get back there NOW before she does.
6. And she's almost there.
7. And I have Gabe.
8. What will I do?
9. I have to bring him.
10. Damn it.

"C'mon, Gabe! NOW. Let's go." Tightening the leash. Running. "WAIT!"

She looks back, laughing, because this is really funny.

At this point, Mr. Gabe spots the other dog and starts doing loopdy loops in the air. I'm flying to get TM, so I basically throw my 90-lb dog over my shoulder and hang him there. He is still. When I finally get to her (and I've written this out, so it seems longer than it was, OK?), I go to scoop her up, and I slash my hand on a wire fence. She is still laughing.

"When mommy tells you to STOP, you need to STOP. Do you understand? Mommy was very scared. This is not our yard. You cannot run down a dark alley without me, OK? Do you understand? Please say yes."

"Shess."

"Thank you."

And so this is the moment of parental freakout, when I wonder, "WHY is she laughing? WHAT is wrong with this picture? I almost lost a hand. And a child. And a dog. There could have been a lawsuit. I'm BLEEDING. This is the opposite of funny. Are the people inside the house watching this? I'm a moron."