Fences

We installed a  6 foot linked security fence on part of our backyard, half to keep in the baby and dog, half to keep out..

My son was a busy toddler.  We lived on a busy street.  I kept the front door locked, the dog was on alert and the keys to the fence were on my keychain in my purse, up out of sight.  Beyond the fence was the beckoning woods.

Two year old son, steals my keys, toddles out to the fence.  Climbs up the links five feet high and sits there holding on with one hand, swaying, trying keys in the padlock with the other hand. 

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Two year old son about to turn three, we rent a farmhouse on the river for the weekend birthday party.  It is a working farm and has cows and horses and chicken, alpaca, dogs and cats, lazy turkeys and an ostrich or two.   We throw a huge party with family and friends and social workers, theme is cowboys and native first peoples.  Our son saunters round the farm like he owns it in his full out costume, cowboy boots, hat, vest, sheriff badge and chaps.   All the children are told of the electric fence which is kept on to keep the cattle in. It is set to OW, a nasty little sting.

All the children keep away from the electric fence but one.  MINE.   Wahhhahha!  A tear stained son comes wailing in to the bunkhouse.  "The fence bit me. "  Stay away from it.


The party goes on.  Dozens of children up from the city for the day.   NO one touches the fence.  Children of all ages caper, cut up, run the zip line, trickle down to the river and swim, just climb all over that 200 acres.  There is even a small cave.   The grown ups are in stations round the farm,  some here, some there.  All afternoon  no one touches the fence. 

Few hours  later.   Son's out by the fence again.  Wahhah wah wah!  He's scooped up and brought back to mom, fingers looking a bit red.  Tears of surprise and indignation on his face.  

Okay that's twice you touched the fence.

Don't touch the fence.  there's a hundred things to do on this farm.  go chase some geese.

Party winds down, sun sets.  Goodbyes are said,  The people who are staying over night go into the  bunkhouse and climb in and out of the loft.  It's been a good long day.


Next day.. Early about the time the rooster crows.  I peek out at my fresh faced son.  One finger in his mouth with concern, then wet from chewing on it. he stretches it out... closer.  closer.


Yup.  three times in one weekend.  My son got zapped by the electric fence.


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Son is maybe five.  The wind is blowing hard, the snow is about 2 feet deep.  Its night time, the temperature is about 15 F. The lake in back is frozen over sort of.

"No, you can't go out sledding.  It's too cold.  It's dark.  It's your bedtime.  After supper is quiet time"     Things get quiet.   A little too quiet.  Five minutes of quiet is a long time.

I call for son.  No answer.

I hunt for son, lots of room in our house for play areas.  Not in his room, not in his bath like I thought he was,  not sitting with Dan.   "Where is son?"  I dunno.

I go into the play room..  Nothing.  Garage is too cold,  take a peek out there.  Nope

I get a little worried.  I call neighbors,  Is son over there with you?  No.  Other neighbor, "don't you know where your son is? "  Well no...

I find the walkout door slightly ajar.  Snow boots and Snowsuit is missing.  sled is missing....

You've got to be kidding me?

I suit up, boots and jeans and parka and dry blanket.    My old bones are a bit too old for search and rescue.  I trudge out  into the night.  Past the locked gate.  Over the hill past the lake.

Yep. There is my nearly frozen fiesty son, down by the high school, sledding on the forbidden hill, the high one that lands into the parking lot.

By himself.  In the dark.  and so cold. "How did you get over the fence?"I asked him.

" I climbed it."


 I bundle and drag him back to warmth.  My husband barely looks up from his reading. "Done with bath so soon? You ready for bed?"