One morning around 7:00 am when Coby was around 2 1/2 years old, I woke up to the sound of my neighbors voice calling me from our downstairs, "Janet, are you here? Janet?"
I flew out of bed and went down the stairs and the neighbor who lived behind us was in our kitchen holding Coby. (First thought to myself... this can't be good)
I greeted her and said, "Oh dear what happened?"
She proceeded to tell me that when she and her daughter (she was a little girl Coby played with) had gone to their kitchen to start breakfast they found Coby in his footie jammies sitting at their kitchen counter on a stool. Literally, he was sitting in their kitchen on their stool.
She told me she said, "Coby, what are you doing here?" She said his reply was, "Waffles."
Apparently he had woken up and gone out our back sliding door and had found their backdoor open and had walked right in and made himself at home.
I was SO embarassed. I tried to make some stupid jokes, and neighbor lady didn't even crack a smile. She left in a bit of a huff...
I immediately called our Social Worker (Coby wasn't offically adopted yet). I had this horrible thought that perhaps neighbor lady would call the police or something... I explained what happened to our worker and she laughed! She told me, "Janet, I come there and visit with you for a half hour and try to keep up with Coby and need to go back and take a nap."
Needless to say, Hubby installed a sliding door safeguard, and you won't believe this - I did NOT win the "1999 Foster Parent of the Year Award!"
