Disclaimer: Peanuts was created by Charles M. Schulz, and various companies hold the rights.
I checked his room, as expected his bed was empty. He had admittedly warned us, but part of me desperately hoped to find my son in his bed. Instead it was empty and his blanket with him. My warnings always seem to glance off of him, as if all he heard was "Wah wah wah wah wah wah." I sigh and shake my head. Children won't listen. At least I can hear my daughter's snoring through her door, and my youngest son slept soundly across the hall. Good, he hasn't tried to drag his younger brother into this then.
"The patch, please just let him be in the patch," I whisper to myself.
Grabbing my coat and keys, I see he had taken his boots and coat as well.
I try not to stomp my way down the path.
Damn, I should have brought a flashlight. Not much of a moon, and last year I practically killed myself checking on him out here. It might get colder at Christmas, but at least kids wait inside for Santa. Maybe next I'll remember the light. Maybe next year he won't come out here. Yeah, I should make a reminder for the light.
Ah, here we go, the patch. Careful, now. Not the time to break a leg. Lets see, where would he be? There! A flickering light. He does like to "do things right" doesn't he? I carefully pick my way across the field, and manage not to kill myself in the process. Or even break a leg. Now that's a success.
And there he is, curled up in his hat and jacket, his blanket pulled around him. Still, it's too chilly not to have a sleeping bag or something. I bend down and pick him up. He's too young to spend all night out here anyway.
But as I start to stand up, I get an idea. I grab a bit of vine to take with us.
He's a lot heavier these days, but I manage to carry him out of the patch, and all the way home without disturbing him or maiming myself. Getting the door unlocked is a bit of a challenge, but once inside it's easy enough to get him upstairs and out of his coat. I leave the pumpkin vine wrapped around his wrist.
"Goodnight Linus," I whisper, kissing his forehead. After all, I don't believe in ruining the magic of childhood.
