Where's Owen?

It was a lovely afternoon today. A little cooler out than what it has been, but nice enough that I'd kicked the kids outside with their father and started putting dinner together. I heard muffled complaining and some banging, but that's not unusual around here.

About five minutes later, I plopped down on a patio chair next to my neighbor and husband to watch the kids play.

"Where's Owen?" Jim asked.

"I don't know," I replied. Yep, we just lost track of our youngest child.

"Last I knew, he was in the house," he said.

Utto. It just dawned on me. Before kicking them out, I gave Fiona a package of toilet paper and told her to put it in the hall closet. 

"Um, check the closet. Fiona just put away the toilet paper."

"Owen, where you at boy?" Jim said as he strolled into the house.

I turned my attention to Fiona.

"Fiona, did you lock your brother in the closet?"

And I get those wide eyes from her as she ponders this question for a few seconds.

"No, I didn't," she said, nodding her head innocently.

Right. She had to think about it. She totally locked him in the closet.

Meanwhile, Jim released Owen from the hall closet (which has a motion-detecting light and lots of snacks, so don't be too concerned, people. he was just fine).   

"In there," Owen blithely said to Jim as he was released. "Outside," he pointed as he trotted to freedom.

This poor kid. Good thing he has a sunny disposition.