My Heart Stopped Beating

I had one of the scariest moments a Mom can have yesterday. One of those times where you can see your child's life flash before your eyes. Not your life, because that is not nearly as scary. But the sweet little two year old that means more to you then your own life.
I picked the boys up from daycare yesterday. It all went downhill from there. On the way home, as usual, we passed the neighborhood park. Wyatt started throwing a fit because I wouldn't stop and let him play at the park. In the 2 minutes it took us to get home, this turned into a full blown tantrum. Kicking, screaming, hitting, scratching, refusing to come in the house. I had finally wrestled him inside and set him down in the middle of the living room floor so that I could ignore the tantrum and he could get it out of his system safely. Since he seemed fairly contained and content to scream and kick the floor, Ethan and I went out to get the mail. Now, whenever you enter or leave our house, you have to be careful not to let the dogs escape. This we are used to. Ethan and I, however, were not prepared for a two year old little boy to come shooting out of the house like a rocket when we opened the door. In the blink of an eye, he was past me and headed down the front walk towards the street. And yes, there was a car coming. Now, just as the suspense is building, this is the part of the story where you need to know a little background. A week ago, I sprained my ankle pretty badly. ER, x-rays, crutches, etc. About two minutes before I went to get the mail, I had taken off my brace because my foot was so swollen that it had become numb. Without the brace, it kind of feels like I am walking on a limp noodle.
So as I saw my baby running towards the street, I knew that there was no way, even pulling out some sort of fabled super-mom strength, I would be able to catch him. My ankle simply would not support my weight. Luckily, at the last second, he turned and started running down the sidewalk. My heart was still not beating, though, because he could just as easily turn to the street again. And I was nowhere near catching him. He was about 3 houses in front of me and widening the gap.
So at this point, let me see if I can paint the scene for you. Because as a bystander, you would either be calling Child Protective Services or laughing your ass off. 2 year old child running down the sidewalk screaming. Because of his tantrum, his sweaty blond hair is standing out from his head in all directions. His face is puffy, beet-red and tears are streaming down his cheeks. Snot is covering his face, hair, and most of his shirt. Large woman in dress clothes limping after him, gasping for air, alternately threatening him and then pleading with him to stop. Kind of amusing, right? I can see the humor now. But at that moment, I was scared to death.
This is when the unlikely hero of the story presents himself. Ethan came out of nowhere. "I'll get him Mom!" He passed me and caught up to his brother. At this point, Ethan executed a perfect flying tackle that would make any football coach proud. Although, I feel lucky that they landed in the grass, I would have taken the skinned whatever just to get that kid stopped. And I will give Ethan credit here, he had to hold on to a tornado. Wyatt hopped up and tried to keep going, dragging his brother with him. It slowed him down enough that I was able grab him, though. I was able to get him back into the house, kicking and screaming where finally, whatever switch he flipped to turn on the tantrum, turned off. In a matter of seconds, he was cuddling up to me and asking for his blanky and appajuice, Pease. (yes, he even said please!) So for public viewing, he was screaming and carrying on like I was the devil trying to kill him. No one got to see the cuddling happy child on the other side of the door. I do expect a visit from CPS at any moment.