My Son, The Escape Artist
I swear, my son is the reincarnation of Harry frigging Houdini.
Why am I even surprised? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all. As a small child, I was notorious for making crazy escape attempts, and even had the police looking for me on the odd occasion – not the fault of my poor parents, partially the fault of the inept team at the creche at Asda and partially the fault of my strong willed self. Three years young, and determined to do what I bloody wanted! I’m nearly twenty six and I can vividly recall my thought process as I ripped through the netting and burst through the ‘locked’ fire escape – I’ve always done things on my own terms, much to the chagrin of my long suffering mum and dad, and it looks like the cycle will start all over again…
Max is a mini mummy, disguised as a mini daddy.
His escape attempts started from the moment that he could support his own weight standing. Seven/eight months? I think around this point. He would reach for door handles, push and pull doors & gates, and if he saw an opportunity, he was out like a horse at the starting gates of the Grand National! Whooooooosh. Watch out, crazy baby on the move!
And then, just before eleven months, he took his first steps. Me and daddy looked at each other with a mixture of intense pride and dread, chuffed to bits but worried as we knew that Houdini was about to ramp it up a notch.
We were right to be worried!
Since then, he’s burst through the front door on countless occasions when it’s been left unlocked for errands/guests, learned how to use a key (thankfully not the RIGHT key just yet…), and a few days ago, escaped the back garden when I turned my back for a few moments to get his drink. I heard a knock at the front door, and was faced with my next door neighbour holding him. I was utterly horrified. The side gate was locked and bolted! Turns out that that the hot weather had made the wooden frame contract, affecting the integrity of the deadbolt and latch. Fucking brilliant. If our neighbour hadn’t been out there, who knows what would have happened?! I cried at the thought of it, a million and one scenarios running through my head and suddenly feeling awfully sorry for my parents!
(Since writing the above, he has managed to break through the barricade in our side alley and escape yet again).
He has certainly lived up to his first middle name. Max Harry Robert Hodgkins, Harry after my brother, but ironic as Max is evidently a Harry Houdini wannabe – at least when it comes to escape attempts. I hope it doesn’t evolve into Houdini’s other talents of dangerous stunts! Knowing my luck, it will… because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree! Wish us luck, as we are going to need it.
Tell me your tales of your mini escape artists in the comments!
Love from Katie. Xx
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