The Hamptons.

When I was a little under 2 years old, my parents took me away to their friend's house in the Hamptons. Their friend was tasked with babysitting me while my parents went to dinner.

Apparently, she took to vacuuming during the course of watching me.

Apparently, I did not like not being the belle of the ball and being the center of attention.

So I left.

Just walked out the back door, and left.

When my parents came back from dinner they were greeted by the entire East Hampton police department.

My parents became unhinged, and freaked out. My parents told the police I loved to swim.

The police began searching every pool they could find since I guess I had thought I was Michael Phelps.

Nothing.

Suddenly, an older women emerged from her home a few houses down with me in tow. I wasn't speaking yet, but she told police, I went to her door, where she welcomed me in, and offered me cookies. So there I was babbling away, eating cookies, and having a grand old time, none the wiser that an entire police force was trying to hunt me down ala Dr. Richard Kimble.

My parents broke down at the sight of me and hugged me.

I was a sight for sore eyes.

Once it was established I was ok, the police department departed.

As the story is told, this is where I proceeded to throw an epic hissy fit that I would not be able to take a ride in a police car with the lights and sirens.

Looking back I guess I knew I wanted to be paid attention to, and that if I wasn't getting what I desired, I would leave and go elsewhere.

If I don't get what I want from one place, I will find it on my own, somewhere else.

Sometimes if we aren't happy with one thing, we need to go and find another.

Even if we don't get to ride in the police car at the end.

Wink.

Xoxo,

C.