I was in the bathroom, doing, um, bathroom-type stuff, the completely dainty and delicate kinds of things, mind, and Robbie got out of the house.
And by "got out of the house," I of course mean he opened the door and went outside.
I forgot to use the special Anti-Robbie-Getting-Out Latch, fashioned by my brilliant and lovely husband.
So, Robbie was free to just go. Like people do. Outside. Outside is a nice change from inside, what with the weather and southwesterly winds, and neighbors and trees and things.
May not seem so bad to you. So, a five year-old goes out for a stroll. They do that. I hear they do, anyway. Maybe they don't. Do they?
However, most have some level of knowledge about streets and traffic and staying away from streets and traffic. Rob does not.
In fact, the nice, sweet, adorable yard-working, tree-cutter-downer from *across* the street who escorted Robbie back home to me told how he saw Robbie, out in the street, in the traffic, running around.
I have never felt so shitty or so scared. I have no words to describe. Can't describe the panic. The anxiety. The pissed-offedness I feel towards me. I am ashamed.Sad.
And a little mortified.
You see, not only does Robbie not understand the streets and the traffic, he doesn't get that everyone wears pants when they are outside.
Yes, he had no pants. No diaper, no shorts, no underwear, no anything.
Just a shirt and shoes and socks. In the street, with the cars.
I am a terrible mother.