Yesterday I was putting away dishes from the dishwasher and Analie and Angus were playing in the hallway to our bedroom.  While it is true that I couldn’t see them from where I was, this setup was safer than than the last time Analie helped me unload the dishwasher; she had pulled herself up on the door and was helping herself to a paring knife (which shouldn’t have been in there anyway) when I realized what she was doing.

So no more helping with the dishwasher.

And besides, I had shut all the doors in the hallway, so there was nowhere to go but out into the dining room and right into Mama’s line of sight.

Less than a minute after I checked on them, I finished the dishes. And suddenly I realized it had gotten altogether too quiet in the house.  I walked over to the hallway; it was empty and all the doors were still closed.

Fine, fine, no problem; they had probably just sneaked around to the entryway and were trying to open the front door and escape again.  (If I don’t get it quite latched all the way, girlfriend has figured out how to pry that heavy door open. TRUE.)

They were not in the entryway.

Or the purple bathroom.

Or the den.

Or the living room.

Or Analie’s room.

Or under the dining room table.

Or in the kitchen.

OR ANYWHERE ELSE THAT I COULD SEE.

My heart started racing and I flashed back to one of my Bible college classes where the professor was talking about Eschatological views, one of which was that there would be a Partial Rapture and those who were ready would go on up to Heaven, and the rest of us would have to stay down here on Earth and work on it for awhile.

But that wasn’t possible, right?  Because every Bible college graduate worth their Grudem’s Systematic Theology knows that a.) 14 month old babies haven’t yet reached The Age Of Accountability, and b.) dogs don’t have souls.

That theory was off the table, so I did a second check of the house.  We don’t have a large house, Internet.  THERE AREN’T ANY PLACES TO HIDE.

The second trip around the house didn’t turn them up, and I was really starting to freak out.

And that’s when I heard it.

There was a NOISE coming from behind my CLOSED BEDROOM DOOR.

I carefully pushed the door open and was greeted by a grinning baby girl and a devilish puppy who was deep in a pile of clean, formerly folded laundry which I had been intending to put away during nap time.

They were so proud of themselves.  Because, MAMA!  WE ARE IN HERE ALL ALONE!

I have no idea how they got in my room, but I guess the door must not have latched when I shut it.

I’ma have to be more careful going forward.  A closed door doesn’t mean an empty room anymore.

But the really good news?  I haven’t been Left Behind!