This is a perfect example of what happens when I finally get in the shower in the middle of the afternoon and Little X promises to watch Daniel Tiger on PBS Kids until I get out...
He plays his own version of Candyland and builds a fort in the front room with every loose couch or chair cushion available. And then he hides.
Which means I get to look all over the house for him.
I look in all of his favorite hiding places. He's not tucked behind one of the chairs at the computer desk. He's not in the pantry. He's not under anyone's bed. He's not beneath the dirty clothes inside the hamper. He's not anywhere in the backyard.
I start to get that little panicky feeling. That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Did he get out the front door? How long has he been gone? I rush to check the deadbolts - they're still locked. I think to myself, where in the world could he be? Then I turn to do some more searching and hear a contented, sleepy, 3-year-old kind of sigh from beneath the cushion fort.
There's my boy.