Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Owen Gone......

He looks harmless, I know. This little guy almost gave me a heart attack yesterday. I took Owen to the garbage chute with me this afternoon. The garbage chute is in the hallway- just two doors down from our apartment. It is inside of little room that holds little recycling bins. I do not usually let Owen in the actual garbage room with me, because I know that he would immediately be drawn to everyone's discarded plastic bottles sitting right at perfect toddler eye-level. So, usually I let him play in the hall. That may sound irresponsible of me, but the whole throw-my-garbage-down-the-chute experience lasts all of 15 seconds. At most. Usually, as I exit the garbage room, he can be found running gleefully over to the large hallway window, beating it as hard as he can, and yelling to the people on the street below.

Not today. Today I left the garbage room to find silence. No high pitched squeals, no little pounding fists- just eerie silence. Where did my little Owen go in these 15 seconds?
Mother-panic kicked in. I knew immediately that my little guy was on an elevator to somewhere in the building. Why doesn't the elevator ever come that fast when I push the button? Embarrassment also kicked in. My child is in a onesie, with no shoes on- somewhere in this building. Oh goodness, where is he?

I ran down the stairs to the lobby. No one had seen him. Then I ran back up the stairs, and started to strategize with Maddy and Eva (who were in the lobby coming home from school when I arrived down there in a panic). Maddy was instructed to go to the 3rd and 4th floor, Eva to the 5th and 6th. Directions: hunt for Owen and report back to the lobby. I was hoping his little fingers could not reach higher than the 6th floor button. I headed back down the Lobby. Our lobby has movement sensitive front doors, and Owen is quite aware of this feature.
In my minds eye I imagined him running out of the elevator, out the sliding doors, and onto the streets of NYC. His dream.....my nightmare. Luckily when I arrived at the lobby the second time, David, the concierge-had Owen in his arms. My blood pressure fell about 90 points and I finally started to breathe again.

My little nugget started crying when I tried to peel him out of David's arms. They will not be nominating me for the "Mother of the Year" award anytime soon. First I lose my kid, then my lost child would rather have a stranger than his own mother. Nice.

So up to our apartment we go- it was time to make dinner. About 2 hours later, the doorbell rings. It was the Fresh Direct guy. I had a much needed grocery delivery scheduled. The door opens and the delivery man (who we know well now) exclaims, "oh there she is!" (apparently Owen's hair is getting too long:) "I found her on the 6th floor today when I was delivering groceries, and I knew she didn't belong there, so I brought her downstairs to the lobby."
So, that was the rest of the story. Apparently my little escape artist pushed the 6th floor button and was hanging out up there until Mr. Fresh Direct found him wandering around, and brought him to the lobby. Thank goodness for nice grocery delivery men. One more reason why I love Fresh Direct.