This morning I dared check my email in the thirty minutes of overlap between when Wes wakes up and Ryan leaves for work. Of course, Ryan is no substitute for me in Wes's eyes, so while Ryan stood by helplessly in the kitchen, I sat at my desk with Wes clawing at my leg to get up and screaming "Mama Mama Mama Mama," face contorted in agony like one of the wretched masses in a Renaissance painting depicting Heaven and Hell. I finally gave up and went upstairs to get dressed.
While I was up there deciding whether I felt more like being a poser in maternity pants way too early or having the circulation cut off to my lower half by attempting to wear normal pants I heard a funny noise. When I looked outside my door I saw Mr. Wretched Masses himself clawing his way up the stairs, burdened greatly by a pair of my sandals dangling off of his feet. I watched him come up the stairs then went to brush my teeth and lost track of him.
Five minutes later I went downstairs to find Ryan placidly checking his email at the computer. Wes was nowhere to be found. "Where is Wes?" I asked Mr. Casual. "He's upstairs" he replied. "Like, just, upstairs? By himself?" I listened for screaming. I heard none. "You're a freaking genius." I marveled at the possibilities.
Then we heard a funny shriek and a big thump and then nothing.
I insisted someone investigate. And then we found Wes locked in Charlie's closet, the previously fast asleep teenage preschooler guarding the door.
It's good for his character.