running away

Number Two was having a bad day. He decided that Dad was the meanest Dad ever and he was going to run away.

Within seconds, he was packing his lunch box with clothes. Hubby casually mentioned that he might want to take some socks and underwear too. A few minutes later our little runaway came down the stairs with all his cargo pant's pockets bulging.

He was ready to go, but then decided that he'd wait until after lunch since he didn't want to get hungry. After filling up, there was some discussion about where he was going to live, and he decided the woods would be a good place. Hubby asked him how he was going to manage there since he was afraid of the dark. "I'll just cover my head in my blankets," he retorted.

He grabbed two blankets and then started adding all his school books to the pile. Older Brother asked, "Why would you take your workbooks?"

"Well, DUH, I don't want to go to jail!" was his reply.

Then after talking about this whole trip some more, he decided he was going to wait until I came home so he could at least say goodbye to Mom. Funny thing is, when I got home I heard not one word about it. He did seem pretty relieved to go to bed though.

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I've thought it would be nice to just pack up and leave it all behind - well, not for the cold, snowy woods behind our house, but maybe for someplace warm, sunny and less stressful. However, I think I might actually be in danger of going to jail if I left too quickly without packing up the right things (or at least dropping them off somewhere safe.)

Running away sounds like too much work.