Last night, Aunt L watched the boys so Steve and I could have a date. This is the story she told when we returned:
The boys were getting out of bed, so she put them back in a couple of times and told them to stay in bed. Minutes later, from the kitchen, she heard both of them suddenly screaming at the top of their lungs. She rushed in to find out what was wrong. They had gotten out of bed and one of them (probably N because I know he has a fascination with it) turned off the night light, so they were both standing in the pitch black scared out of their minds! She tucked them back in and told them that the lights would go out again if they got out of bed.
While waiting outside their door afterward, she heard N tell M: "I get out of bed, it get really dark, they don't see me, I get hit by car and get a shot!"
See, when I'm alone with the two of them, trying to get them into whatever building we're about to enter, the first one out usually bolts for the door, which is often across a parking lot. Or they like to let gravity take them in their cozy coupes to the bottom of the driveway and into the road. So I tell them, quite often, that they are too little and the cars can't see them, so if a car comes, they could get hit by a car. If that happens, they have to go to the hospital and get a shot!
Apparently, when N couldn't see anything last night, he assumed NO ONE could see him and he was going to get hit by a car - in his bedroom! Poor kid!