The Case Of The Runaway Grandson

What Do You See?

A while back, I described in a post how having our youngest son and his family living with us often provides me with baffling surprises. Mostly it's me stumbling upon things that are not where they should be.

Based on what the item is and where it is left, though, I can more or less guess who was involved.

I can also get close to the circumstances as to why things got left where they were.

However, the scene that greeted me as I headed through the garage into the house a while back so misdirected me, I completely overlooked the actual clues amidst all of the dead ends.

It was the Friday before Thanksgiving, so ten days ago. I'd just arrived from work, parked the van inside the fence, and walked through the side door to find the above—a baby walker and a suitcase.

Okaaaayyyy... This is new.

Generally, deductive reasoning would immediately start kicking in to puzzle through this conundrum, but in this case, things didn't compute. And when things don't make sense to me, my imagination hits overdrive. And, so it did this time, and as it did, I couldn't help but smile broadly at what it was envisioning.

A Bit Of Background

My youngest grandson has been using his sissy's baby walker to push himself around. He's getting pretty good at it, but he's not this good.

For what I was seeing in my mind's eye, with some grandfatherly glee I must add, was this six-month-old boy in the walker somehow getting the door to the laundry room open, barreling over the threshold, down a step and over to the shelving where the suitcase was.

Because the seat was pulled up, it was apparent he wasn't able to get any farther before someone snatched him out.

Nice try.

Like father, like son, since his daddy tried to runaway from home, too, albeit, at around seven years old when he was far more mobile and was crafty enough to pack up some snacks in a knapsack, like an old fashioned hobo, so, you know, he wouldn't starve.

To his credit, with the suitcase, my grandson would be more practical than his father, just a tad overambitious.

Back To Reality

I decided I needed to set the initial discovery aside because it led to an impossibility (no matter how fun it was to watch unfold in my head). I started looking around for other details.

I found these Santa Claus statues sitting in the basket where some sports equipment and other sundry things are kept. Interesting, but still not making much sense.

The imagination, naturally, wanted to kick in again. Something along the lines of a Toy Story bit where the toys are plotting their next move and interrupted by their human playmate—only this was the Santas deciding they wanted to play basketball but were interrupted by me.

Not nearly as fun as the thought of the grandson making a run for the border, though, so back to the clues.

Above the Santas on top of the freezer we have in the garage was this oddity—the undercarriage to something (who knew what). If I'd seen it before, I didn't recognize it, and I know it hadn't been sitting on top of the freezer for very long because I walk by it regularly in and out of the garage.

Something was clearly amiss, but things just weren't adding up.

This warranted even more clues, and more investigation.

I went inside. Sadly, the door from the garage to the laundry room was closed. Had it been flung open, my imagination would have felt justified, and rather smugly at that, but alas, I had to open the door to get in.

Awaiting me on the dryer were these little cuties—a pair of rather festive looking dolls, with at least one having some sort of loop on its head. I'll find all kinds of strange things temporarily sitting on either the washer or the dryer, but these I had never seen before.

They looked like something my granddaughter might be interested in, but she can't quite reach the top of the dryer to leave things.

Hmmmmm.

I needed more data.

There wasn't anything in the dining room of note as I passed through, but as I neared the kitchen, I found this critter sitting on the edge of the sink. The granddaughter likes Danimals, I think for the yogurt and not necessarily for the kind of creepy looking face—or whatever that is. A monkey in a suit, maybe?

No. This didn't help at all. Like the strange plastic whatchamacallit sitting on the top of the freezer, this empty bottle was a red herring.

So, I turned back and headed into the living room.

Almost immediately, I was confronted by this—a dirty diaper, laying on the carpet.

Now, because the living room is the place for all kind of playtime activity, I am fortunately in the habit of looking down. Every once in a while, a stray dirty diaper can be found, but mostly, there are toys—blocks, dolls, dollhouse, books, a guitar, etc., etc.

Again the imagination flared up, seeing the grandson now naked in the walker, escaping just after getting his dirty diaper removed. That made the whole thing even funnier.

A Side Note

Lest you think my son and his family are total barbarians, this was not a poopy diaper. Those are generally put in a bag and left on the door knob of the pantry, just high enough so you get a whiff as you walk by.

Well, needless to say, I was in a quandary. I felt like the last few oddities were leading me off the scent. None of it was adding up. There was just too much clutter and I couldn't filter it out. It didn't help that I was creating an impossible, but so wickedly delightful runaway baby story in my head.

A Mystery No More

In the end, the case of the runaway grandson was solved, and while it had nothing to do with him at all, I just had to keep walking, and look up.

There, across the living room in it's customary corner in front of the windows was the new Christmas tree we had purchased weeks earlier, all decked out with ornaments. Even the included multi-colored lights were on.

So, that explained the Santas and the festive girl dolls, that didn't make it to the tree.

That also explained, in general, why the suitcase was on the garage floor—it had been moved to get to some of the ornaments. The undercarriage thingamabob on the freezer was probably the result of another move. That meant the Danimals and the diaper were just the normal every day items I generally find lying around when people get distracted before they can finish the task they're in the middle of doing.

And The Walker?

Well, that was apparently moved to the garage so the tree could be put in place. I'm not sure why the walker ended up there instead of some other part of the house, but it did.

One Mystery Ends And Another Begins

I had up to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. As I enter, I see there's this green plastic block just lying on our bed. All by itself.

Why is it upstairs in my room? Was one of the kids playing with it? But the blocks are downstairs. Why bring it upstairs, just to leave it there?

I have no immediate answer. Logic failing once again, my imagination hits turbo.

I see my grandson chewing on the block...

...just before it's unceremoniously plucked from his clutches so he can take a nap. Upset, he decides he's had enough of other people making him do stuff he doesn't want to do, so he makes a run for it, down a flight of stares, flings off his dirty diaper, then blasts out to the garage where he starts packing a suitcase for a flight to Cancun...

...only to get caught and put to bed, anyway.

Sigh.

Nice try, kid.

Better luck next time.

_{All images courtesy of Glen Anthony Albrethsen}