Let me set the stage for this particular Billy-ism. We had a couple of handymen here doing some work on the basement. Kevin had stepped out into the garage to talk with them. I was rocking Tommy in my dark bedroom. Rusty was in bed and Ricky and Billy were reading stories in their bedroom. Got it?
Billy went running down the hall and then ran into my room. He never even glanced at my rocking chair, just peeked into the dark bathroom, stopped for a moment, and then bolted back to his bedroom. I could hear the following conversation between him and Ricky.
Billy: Ricky, the guys from the basement and Poppy are missing! And Momma is gone too!
Ricky: No, they are just in the basement.
Billy: NO! They all left! We … are … here … ALONE!
Ricky and Billy went back and forth a few more times discussing the situation.
Billy: There is only one thing to do! Call for help!
At this point I was afraid he was going to try calling 911 or something and I was trying really hard to keep Tommy asleep, so I hadn’t called out to him. Besides, the conversation was just cracking me up too much to interrupt. But Billy didn’t head down the hall toward the phone. Nope. Instead I hear him yell,
HELP!
Ricky told him to stop that because he was going to wake up the babies, but Billy would not be deterred. He yelled again, HELP!
Through my muffled laughter, I finally called out to him and let him find me in my dark corner. He was very relieved that I was there!