His dad picked him up from a birthday party, where he had won an overflowing-arms-load of candy. They drove home and everyone exited the van. The kids left the sliding door open again, Greg thought as he pushed the button on the van’s key ring and went inside.
Greg asks me, “Where’s Evan?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since you guys got home. Maybe he’s at the neighbor’s playing.”
Greg walks down the driveway, past the van, and over to the neighbor’s house.
No Evan.
It’s a hot day. 80 plus. So much for “winter”.
As Greg walks back, he sees a figure through the van’s tinted windows.
He pulls on the handle and the door slides open.
There is Evan. Dripping in sweat. Eyes wide with panic. His hands are holding up the bottom of his rolled up shirt – which is filled with his treasured candy booty.
Evan! Why didn’t you open the door and get out???!!!
“I couldn’t because my hands were full of candy.”
Oh dear, oh dear.
……………………
We’ve had multiple conversations with him since then about his life being much more important than a bunch of tootsie rolls.
Good thing it wasn’t 100 degrees outside! This is a much better lesson to learn in the Arizona “winter” rather than its summer.
1 comment:
Oh, my. That is so frightening.
We had a similar scrape with Shyre a while back.
... candy.
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