Here comes the straight jacket

Daddy is sick. Daddy is hardly ever sick.

Mom tries to give dad a break. "Take a nap," she says and takes them upstairs for resting time.

30 minutes of banging and a poopy diaper later, she gives up on little people naps and shoos the kids outside to garden.

A few minutes of calm. Some digging. Ladder climbing. Excited squeaks and thick, jiggly worms.

Wonderful Uncle Jayson comes outside to mow the lawn. Little boy passes from uncle to mom over 15 feet of driveway. Except he never makes it.

"Where's Henry?"

"What do you mean, where is Henry?"

"WHERE IS HENRY?!"

Ack! Frantic searches through the house. Up the street. Down the street.

Wake up daddy! Wake up! Can't find Henry!!

Jogging the neighborhood, searching through bushes. Lots of hollering. Not a sign.

Adrenaline surging. Horrible ideas coming to mind.

Scuffle noises from the garage. Henry, locked inside, happily playing with various wheels.

Wheezing. Relief.

Some on the floor crying from mom.

Family ending up at OMSI around 5. The place is packed with vibrant, moving children - and many worn looking parents, staring out of hollowed eyes.

Clearly, we aren't the only ones.