Well, it took nearly a year and a half, but for the first time since we
adopted Dmitry, I've had cause to wonder where he was and stand
anxiously on the porch, peering into the darkness.
Taylor had been over, along with some other boy, and when they left Dmitry went with them, saying "I'm going outside, Mom."
Fine. No problem. Assumed they'd stand or sit on the porch
and continue their in-depth, mostly ignorant discussion of the PSP.
An hour later it's dark and I haven't a clue where
he is. I know Taylor lives in the apartments across the street,
but don't know which one. I could probably locate his phone
number on one of the phones' Caller ID records, but rather disliked to
do that. Not unless it was necessary.
Don shrugged it off, pointing out he's 14 1/2 years old, for crying out
loud, and he's seen Taylor be over here until 8 p.m. or so, therefore
Dmitry's doubtless just enjoying himself by visiting Taylor's home and
playing his games for a change.
And such turned out to be the case. At 8:05 or so Dmitry strolled
in, happily bearing three borrowed PS2 games, and in an excellent mood.
Of course, I know it's nice he's finally visited a friend's home . . . such a normal thing
for a boy to do! But it was much less wearing on the nerves
always knowing exactly where he was. Don says, "Let go, Anne."
Let GO? 
But I just got him. 
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