Several days later I decided to go on a good long jog, trusting that Chip would not leave Drake again. As I was on my way back I saw Chip coming down the road in his truck with the trailer on it. He rolled up to me with his window down and said, "Baby, you're doing so good. I'm heading to work now. I've got to go."
I looked in the back, thinking, But I didn't see a car seat.
"Chip, where's Drake?" she said, and I was like, "Oh, shoot!" She took off without a word and ran like lightning all the way back to the house as I turned the truck around. She got there faster on foot than I did in my truck.
I sure hope no one from Child Protective Services reads this book. They can't come after me retroactively, can they?
Chip promised it would never happen again. So the third time I attempted to take a run, I went running down Third Street and made it all the way home. I walked in, and Chip and Drake were gone. I thought, But then I noticed his car was still parked out front. I looked around and couldn't find them anywhere.
Moments later, Chip pulled up on his four-wheeler--with Drake bungee-strapped to the handlebars in his car seat. "Chip!" I screamed, "What in the heck are you doing?"
"Oh, he was crying, and I'd always heard my mom say she would drive me around the neighborhood when I was a baby, and it made me feel better," Chip said. "He loved it. He fell right to sleep."
"He didn't love it, Chip. He probably fell asleep because the wind in his face made it impossible to breathe."
I didn't go for another run for the whole first year of Drake's life, and I took him to the shop with me every single day. Some people might see that as a burden, but I have to admit I loved it. Having him in that BabyBjörn was the best feeling in the world.
Drake was a shop baby. He would come home every night smelling like candles.
We had friends who owned a barbecue joint, and their baby always came home smelling like a rack of ribs. I liked Drake's smell a whole lot better.
I looked in the back, thinking, But I didn't see a car seat.
"Chip, where's Drake?" she said, and I was like, "Oh, shoot!" She took off without a word and ran like lightning all the way back to the house as I turned the truck around. She got there faster on foot than I did in my truck.
I sure hope no one from Child Protective Services reads this book. They can't come after me retroactively, can they?
Chip promised it would never happen again. So the third time I attempted to take a run, I went running down Third Street and made it all the way home. I walked in, and Chip and Drake were gone. I thought, But then I noticed his car was still parked out front. I looked around and couldn't find them anywhere.
Moments later, Chip pulled up on his four-wheeler--with Drake bungee-strapped to the handlebars in his car seat. "Chip!" I screamed, "What in the heck are you doing?"
"Oh, he was crying, and I'd always heard my mom say she would drive me around the neighborhood when I was a baby, and it made me feel better," Chip said. "He loved it. He fell right to sleep."
"He didn't love it, Chip. He probably fell asleep because the wind in his face made it impossible to breathe."
I didn't go for another run for the whole first year of Drake's life, and I took him to the shop with me every single day. Some people might see that as a burden, but I have to admit I loved it. Having him in that BabyBjörn was the best feeling in the world.
Drake was a shop baby. He would come home every night smelling like candles.
We had friends who owned a barbecue joint, and their baby always came home smelling like a rack of ribs. I liked Drake's smell a whole lot better.
( Joanna Gaines )
[ The Magnolia Story ]
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