The 9-year-old boy across the street has severe special needs - ADHD, compulsive, manic depressive, etc. This morning Caleb and I heard a lot of yelling going on outside. Then I clearly heard, "Brandon*, get down here now!" (*Not his real name.)
Me: "Sounds like Brandon is getting in trouble."
Caleb, looking out the window: "Why is he on the roof?"
I went to the front door and peered through the blinds. There he was, standing on the roof in his pajamas, robe, and bare feet. His mom was continuing to frantically urge him to get down. As he strolled back toward the peak of the roof to go on the other side, I grabbed my phone and wondered if I should call 9-1-1. I didn't know, though, if that would agitate him. He seemed calm. Thankfully Caleb had gone back to the couch to read his book, so I didn't have to worry about him seeing anything traumatic, should Brandon lose his balance and fall. Or jump. (Knowing what I do about this kid, it wouldn't surprise me.)
When I looked back out the window, Brandon had gone to the other side of the roof and his mom had run back inside the house. I don't know if she was taking a shortcut to the back yard or if there was an open window upstairs that he may have been going back to.
Nothing more has happened, so I guess all is back to normal there. I wonder if he'll end up going to school or to the doctor today.