Trapped Like a Rat

My days as a stealth agent are over.

My sister Jannie and I were returning to her home about the same time her 4-year-old son Sherlock Shaun was dropping by to pick up his stuffed animal. 

He was on day 2 of his 5-day stay with his dad (Jan's ex), and she was afraid that if Shaun saw me, he might not want to leave again.

Because that's how much fun I am.

We had a plan.  I was supposed to hide from Shaun. He would come into the house, get Wolfy, and leave without a scene, unaware that his extremely exciting and entertaining aunt Lou was hiding behind his aquarium, disguised as a Plecostomus.

Our timing was off.  As we pulled into the driveway, in a car packed to the gills with shopping bags, suitcases, and Diet Coke,  Jan noticed Paul pulling up across the street.  She groaned, "Oh no! They're right behind us! Duck!"

Now, I had just spent upwards of $135 on a 5-star massage in Vail.  And I was sitting on a bucket seat the size of a tablespoon, with a backpack and 2 shopping bags at my feet.

But, I sucked it up.  I could not let Shaun see me and risk ruining his weekend with his boring dad.  

So I turned into an amoeba.  Ouch.

Jan got out of the car, and I watched the top of Shaun's head pass by, as he followed her into the house.

Five minutes passed.   10...15...20.  I lost track of time.

And my $135 massage went down the distributor hose. My shoulders were folded tighter than an Accordian.

Then Paul, the ex-husband, stormed past the car. (He's a few inches taller than Shaun, so I was able to observe his neck bulging in rage as he passed.)  He climbed the stairs to Jan's porch and rang the doorbell.

Then he looked into the car, where I was trying to resemble a seat belt.  CRAP!

I thought about escaping, but feared that the minute I opened the car door they would leave the house and I'd be caught red-handed. So I remained, trapped like a rat.

Finally I saw the little head pass my car, followed by Paul's throbbing neck.   I chanced a glance and saw Paul buckling Shaun into the car seat.  Whew.  Relief was on the horizon.

Or so I thought.

Paul's car was not moving. Crap! I waited another 5 minutes and chanced another glance. Shaun and Jan were in the next door neighbor's yard talking to him!  Paul remained at his truck, his agitation mounting. 

I had my chance.

I stealthily opened the car door to escape. Except my body was so cramped all I could do was lie on the driveway. And Jan and Shaun were returning to Paul's truck!

It took all the power and might I could muster: every ounce of strength, to run towards the garbage can cubby.  I hid behind what was left of a Christmas tree, feeling as if I had just finished the Boston Marathon.  (Except, of course, I had run only 7 feet or so.)

That's when I heard Sherlock Shaun say, "Mom, I saw someone run over there."

Jan tried to play dumb.  "No, I think that was a cat."
"No Mom, a person ran over there.  I'll show you."  

He was coming after me!  And I had no place go go.  I was caught red handed.

By a stinkin' 4-year old. 

And I could have kicked myself.  I should have been prepared with one of my many disguises. 

I would have completely out-smarted him.