Johnny loves it when his daddy comes home. So much that when John came home today and immediately went back outside to put the trashcan away, Johnny just couldn't stand it and decided he needed to go out too.
I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, and in like 30 seconds flat, he put his shoes on, opened the front door, and went outside. I ran to the door and snatched him back in the house so fast, he practically left his sandals on the sidewalk, and he promptly went to his room for a timeout.
When he came down, he got a stern talking to from John and I about strangers and cars and rush hour. "Someone might take you. Or you could get hit by a car."
He looked very serious and said, "There's no cars on the sidewalk."
I didn't know whether to laugh (hysterically) or cry, but he's right, there are no cars on the sidewalk (unless, of course, my mom happens to be learning to drive a stick shift anywhere near by). I was amazed at his logic, but he's still not allowed to go outside when he pleases. Especially since John witnessed an accident on the corner this morning, when a speeding car ran a stop sign and hit another car broadside. The impact pushed the car over closer to the curb, so even though there aren't usually cars on the sidewalk, that's no guarantee.
During the day, the deadbolt is always on, and Johnny can't reach it, but we'll have to remember to lock it while John deals with the trash in the future.