Our youngest son escaped from my view as a toddler.  I watched all four kids through the kitchen and bedroom windows, plus I watched their playmates.  There were no fenced yards.  It would not have mattered anyway because he was a “climber.”  He often climbed up on top of our van and stood there long enough for every neighbor to see him.

I went out to the back yard often to offer iced pops or some other treat. My neighbor next door and I talked at times as we watched them all as they ran wild.  Our youngest son was in pull-ups eating a pickle one of those days.  “Where did he get the pickle?”  My neighbor said, “Oh, he comes in by the door wall screen.  He stands by the refrigerator and says the word ACKLE and I know that he wants a pickle, and I give him one if I have any.”

Years later, I was in the kitchen making a dinner they hated:  Shepard’s Pie.   I opened up my pantry door and found my oldest daughter’s boyfriend in there with his mouth and hands full of Oreo cookies.  I felt better about the whole pickle debacle after that.