Sam ran away from me yesterday. Like, really *ran.* He jumped a fence and ran into the golf course behind his grandparent's house. He ran and ran and ran. (He wasn't mad; he said he just wanted to run.) I tried to follow him, but he was really, really fast.
He ran for about a mile. (The kid is four years old!)
When I finally caught him (and called Steve to come pick us up), I didn't know whether to be mad at him for not listening to me when I told him not to run away or to be sincerely *impressed* at his obviously abundant running talent.
Kinda like Mary musta felt when Jesus ran away to go preach to people, I think.