History Repeats Itself

Back when I was about two years old or so, my mother took me along with her to go visit my aunt. Once we got there, I got bored quickly, with the two women sitting at the kitchen table gossipping as they drank coffee.

I went out into the yard and eventually wandered away, walking down the sidewalk. I had it in my mind to try to find the school where my older cousin was.

I was halfway across town before they realized I was gone and they found me. Because I was so young at the time, I don't remember too many of the details, but I do remember that I wasn't the slightest bit afraid.

Fast forward 20+ years.

Shortly after my divorce, I moved in with my father for awhile until I got on my feet again. One day when my son was about two, I went to take a shower. My son and I were home alone, but I didn't think anything of it. I left the bathroom door open so he could come in the bathroom if he needed me.

When I got out of the shower, I found the front door standing wide open, my son gone. Because the front door had been locked, I didn't think he'd gotten out by himself. I first thought my father had gotten home and taken him out in the yard. He wasn't anywhere in the house or anywhere in the yard, and my father wasn't there.

I ran all over the neighborhood looking for him and about twenty minutes later, a woman from three streets over approached me, my son trustingly holding her hand.

That's the last time I underestimated him.

I'd be curious to hear any stories like this you might have from your family.