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Boy On The Run
On Sunday the three of us went to a tree farm in Blackstone to tag a tree.
Sebastian was in a great mood; he kept running around, sticking his face in the various photographic cut-outs that were scattered here and there. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera, but I'll bring it on Saturday when we pick up the tree, weather permitting.
Teri is hard to please when it comes to Christmas trees, so we were looking for a long time. Eventually Sebastian got a bit bored, and started asking what was in the "little house". It's not that little, actually, but it's the place where you pay for your tree. They also have hot cider, Christmas cookies, and candy canes there. We were still looking for the right tree, so we told him to wait.
But after a while, he couldn't wait any more. I looked over to see him running towards the house. I sighed, yelled "I'll get him!", and took off after him.
I managed to capture him with relatively little fuss, and we went back to searching for trees.
Have you ever been on a tree farm? This one was in a relatively rural spot. Across the road cows were grazing and letting out the occassional "moo". Trees ranging from a few inches to perhaps nine feet tall spread out in row upon row, going all the way up to a hill in the distance. Here and there stood a rusted old tractor or piece of farming equipment. Sebastian couldn't help but try to roll a giant pair of rusted metal wheels, connected by an axis, but they were far too heavy to move.
The search went on and on. Eventually, of course, the boy cracked. The next thing I knew, he was running away, away from the road and the house, up the hill and towards the horizon.
I groaned and followed, but he was already five hundred feet away at least. I shouted, and he glanced back, but didn't stop. I think I heard him laugh. Teri was off talking to the tree guy, asking about the dry needles on one of the trees. Sebastian kept running and disappeared over the hill.
I can't emphasize just how quiet it was there...how isolated. Over the hill the trees ended, and a long meadow stretched ahead of us. At the end, it was bounded on all sides by woods. There was no sign of humanity or civilization - not even a stone wall. Looking back, the house and tree farm were out of sight.
The boy kept running.
How far had we gone? Half a mile? A mile? It was a frightening distance, in any case. Not so much for itself, of course. But that Sebastian would run so far away into such an isolated area...well, he was laughing, but it was a bit disturbing.
Finally he reached a snowy, muddy area. The deep woods were less than 100 feet ahead of him. He paused. I was still about 150 feet behind him (he's a fast runner).
"Sebastian, stop!" I shouted. "You'll get your shoes all muddy!"
Thank goodness that he's a bit fastidious! He stopped, looked down at his shoes, and looked at the ground. Then he looked back at me doubtfully, clearly pondering his choices. I wasn't panting (daily workouts have improved my endurance), but I was definitely feeling winded - half an hour on a crossramp machine isn't at all like running up and down a grass-covered hill and across a lumpy meadow.
I reached him.
"I want to run away and live with a new Mommy and Daddy." he said.
That hurt a little, of course, but he's said it before. Usually when he's angry at Teri. When I talk to him about it, though, it always turns out that he assumes that we'd come with him. So I didn't feel too bad.
"Sebastian, you shouldn't run away like that. There are people hunting in these woods, people with guns! Listen," I said, "can you heard the guns?"
I'd noticed faint but clear bangs far off in the distance. It was Sunday, so people weren't supposed to be hunting, but apparently that's not one of our well-respected laws.
"Come on," I said, "let's go back." He took my hand and we headed back on the long walk towards the hill and the farm. "You know, baby boy, it's not safe to run in the woods when people are hunting. They might think that you were a deer and shoot you. That's why you're supposed to wear an orange hat when you're in the woods!"
"Do they have guns?" he asked. He worries about guns; he's asked how many guns there are in various local towns, and always wants to know if there are guns near us.
"Yes, so please don't run away."
"Daddy, pick me up," he said, "carry me!" He reached his arms up to me.
"Oh no. You ran out here, so you're walking back with me all the way."
Teri was just coming over the top of the hill. She was angry at both of us, although I couldn't understand why she was angry at me; it's not like I had encouraged the boy, or been playing a chase game with him! She was furious, but got over it after a few minutes.
We headed back to the farm, and went into the house to pay for the tree and get a tag for it. Sebastian had warm cider, which he liked a lot, and a couple of Christmas cookies. Then we headed home.
It's funny; in a way, I understood why he had run. The hill, the horizon, the quiet woods in the distance...there's a part of me that always feels a pull, a tug, a deep and inexplicable desire to run and see what's out there.
When I was little, I used to run away, too.
Sebastian was in a great mood; he kept running around, sticking his face in the various photographic cut-outs that were scattered here and there. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera, but I'll bring it on Saturday when we pick up the tree, weather permitting.
Teri is hard to please when it comes to Christmas trees, so we were looking for a long time. Eventually Sebastian got a bit bored, and started asking what was in the "little house". It's not that little, actually, but it's the place where you pay for your tree. They also have hot cider, Christmas cookies, and candy canes there. We were still looking for the right tree, so we told him to wait.
But after a while, he couldn't wait any more. I looked over to see him running towards the house. I sighed, yelled "I'll get him!", and took off after him.
I managed to capture him with relatively little fuss, and we went back to searching for trees.
Have you ever been on a tree farm? This one was in a relatively rural spot. Across the road cows were grazing and letting out the occassional "moo". Trees ranging from a few inches to perhaps nine feet tall spread out in row upon row, going all the way up to a hill in the distance. Here and there stood a rusted old tractor or piece of farming equipment. Sebastian couldn't help but try to roll a giant pair of rusted metal wheels, connected by an axis, but they were far too heavy to move.
The search went on and on. Eventually, of course, the boy cracked. The next thing I knew, he was running away, away from the road and the house, up the hill and towards the horizon.
I groaned and followed, but he was already five hundred feet away at least. I shouted, and he glanced back, but didn't stop. I think I heard him laugh. Teri was off talking to the tree guy, asking about the dry needles on one of the trees. Sebastian kept running and disappeared over the hill.
I can't emphasize just how quiet it was there...how isolated. Over the hill the trees ended, and a long meadow stretched ahead of us. At the end, it was bounded on all sides by woods. There was no sign of humanity or civilization - not even a stone wall. Looking back, the house and tree farm were out of sight.
The boy kept running.
How far had we gone? Half a mile? A mile? It was a frightening distance, in any case. Not so much for itself, of course. But that Sebastian would run so far away into such an isolated area...well, he was laughing, but it was a bit disturbing.
Finally he reached a snowy, muddy area. The deep woods were less than 100 feet ahead of him. He paused. I was still about 150 feet behind him (he's a fast runner).
"Sebastian, stop!" I shouted. "You'll get your shoes all muddy!"
Thank goodness that he's a bit fastidious! He stopped, looked down at his shoes, and looked at the ground. Then he looked back at me doubtfully, clearly pondering his choices. I wasn't panting (daily workouts have improved my endurance), but I was definitely feeling winded - half an hour on a crossramp machine isn't at all like running up and down a grass-covered hill and across a lumpy meadow.
I reached him.
"I want to run away and live with a new Mommy and Daddy." he said.
That hurt a little, of course, but he's said it before. Usually when he's angry at Teri. When I talk to him about it, though, it always turns out that he assumes that we'd come with him. So I didn't feel too bad.
"Sebastian, you shouldn't run away like that. There are people hunting in these woods, people with guns! Listen," I said, "can you heard the guns?"
I'd noticed faint but clear bangs far off in the distance. It was Sunday, so people weren't supposed to be hunting, but apparently that's not one of our well-respected laws.
"Come on," I said, "let's go back." He took my hand and we headed back on the long walk towards the hill and the farm. "You know, baby boy, it's not safe to run in the woods when people are hunting. They might think that you were a deer and shoot you. That's why you're supposed to wear an orange hat when you're in the woods!"
"Do they have guns?" he asked. He worries about guns; he's asked how many guns there are in various local towns, and always wants to know if there are guns near us.
"Yes, so please don't run away."
"Daddy, pick me up," he said, "carry me!" He reached his arms up to me.
"Oh no. You ran out here, so you're walking back with me all the way."
Teri was just coming over the top of the hill. She was angry at both of us, although I couldn't understand why she was angry at me; it's not like I had encouraged the boy, or been playing a chase game with him! She was furious, but got over it after a few minutes.
We headed back to the farm, and went into the house to pay for the tree and get a tag for it. Sebastian had warm cider, which he liked a lot, and a couple of Christmas cookies. Then we headed home.
It's funny; in a way, I understood why he had run. The hill, the horizon, the quiet woods in the distance...there's a part of me that always feels a pull, a tug, a deep and inexplicable desire to run and see what's out there.
When I was little, I used to run away, too.