Footloose and Fancy Free

“Bill, where’s Ian?” Sandi gazed out the window over the kitchen sink.

“He’s out back.” I’d let both of the boys into our fenced backyard earlier. They’d played outside many times, both content and safe. James had come inside, but 3-year-old and preverbal Ian hadn’t.

“Can’t see him.”

I searched the backyard. No Ian.

“Sandi, I can’t find him.”

She dialed the police and spoke for a moment. “He’s down at the high school with a police officer.”

We wasted no time in collecting our wayward son and, after explanations to the officer, returned home.

The experts refer to Ian’s adventurous spirit as elopement, and he had an uncanny ability to disappear whenever he wanted.

We grew adept at keeping him under control. I put spring-loaded hooks that defied his understanding on the storm doors, we held hands during walks and we went outside with the boys.

Our efforts weren’t enough.

One day, school called us, saying they’d lost Ian. By the time we reached his school, the principal waited for us out front with the news that he’d been found safe.

Relieved, we went inside for a meeting to discuss ways to keep Ian and his wayward feet safe at school. We settled on a dedicated paraprofessional who would keep my wandering son in sight.

Problem solved or, at least, circumvented, we went home and didn’t come back until the next parent/teacher meeting when I spoke to his teacher, Mrs. Schlagle.

“Have you had any more problems with Ian’s elopement?”

She gave a small chuckle. “I discovered he likes being near girls, so I sat him next to one. Nailed his foot to the floor.”

Hmm … Maybe a baby girl would help. I turned to Sandi and raised my eyebrows in silent question.

“Don’t even think about it.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.