It’s two months since I posted something for my ongoing “You Know You’re A Parent When…” series, so because it’s Halloween, I present the “You Know When: The LOST Edition*”
*(The kids, not the TV show.)
You know you’re a parent when…
|Time to get up off the couch boys, Papa has an idea!!|
About four hours after the Wife leaves, you decide to bring the boys for a bike ride.They wait in the driveway as you go back inside for about 45 seconds, ‘cos you forgot the drinks.
Silly, silly parent.
Back. “Hey, where’s No. 2 Son?”
His older brother says, “I don’t know.”
You are, of course, a former reporter and a writer with a vivid imagination.
Not thinking straight (and because you’re worried,) you ask No. 1 Son various leading questions. Each is answered with the same "I think so."
Within three minutes you believe that No. 2 Son has been snatched by a large, single man with sunglasses who drove a big blue car...
Grandma joins the search and as you run in and out of the garage several times, you both do admirable impressions of chickens with their heads cut off …
Much to the amusement of No. 2 Son who decides (finally) to leave the comfortable driver's seat of the rather large, parked vehicle sitting there in plain sight.
As he climbs from the minivan, he asks Grandma why she was running around so much?Twenty-four hours later, THIS happened.
So, two scary lost children stories in one day should fill the yearly quota, but oh no, not for your kids…
You know you’re a parent when…Two weeks later, you’re hosting the regular Tuesday night bible study. A family friendly event, the front door is unlocked, the backyard becomes a mosh pit of mini mites and inside the adults enjoy a potluck dinner and fellowship.
Grandma always takes the three Sons upstairs, and why would tonight be any different?
|What? I'm supposed to still hold the bat?|
However, No. 2 Son lurks in the backyard, but you don’t realize this.
Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock and a concerned neighbor says there’s an unknown lost child at the top of the street.With pride, you say (before you falleth,) “Oh, it’s not one of mine. All ours are upstairs.”
Silly, silly parent.
A quick inventory of the visiting ankle-biters is taken and all are accounted for.
Still bothered by the poor, lost boy – and what terrible parents he must have – you head up to see him. Perhaps you might recognize and help reconnect the toddler with the afore mentioned despicable me parents.
From a distance, you see the sleeping babe in the arms of a neighbor while others gather around in a protective circle.
Hmm, the poor little angel has the same clothes as No. 2 Son… how funny.
Wow, the little guy is about the same age and height as No. 2 Son… weird.
The mom turns around and you get a clear sighting of the cherub’s cheeks.
It is No. 2 Son.
A large, appearing sinkhole would not go amiss right now...
With shock, you claim back your didn’t-know-he-was-missing child and splutter mega thanks while blurting apologies as the community security guard takes some details.
A week later…
You go the zoo with only two of the three kids (No. 1 Son is in school.) Watching two is so easy that you actually relax for a moment.
Silly, silly parent.
|Look how fast I can run, Papa!!|
Having freaked out when you lost No. 3 Son in August, you call for security and PTL, No. 2 Son is found about ten minutes later, nearby in the Keiki (kids) area.
That’s it, right? We're done?
Recently, you visited the Bishop Museum and No. 2 Son, (now nicknamed Ninja Child) gets away again!!! (No. 1 Son had trouble emailing this picture at the LEGO encounter.)
As soon as you turned in toward the computer, Ninja Child took off.
Help was called - again (every public attraction in O’ahu has since given me direct numbers to their security.)
|“Look, Papa, I found you!”|
And finally, since you have decided to NEVER again leave the house until all three boys are at least eighteen, this past Wednesday was a good opportunity to clean all their toy chests/drawers/areas.
Oh oh…You hear a noise from here:
Upon your return to the living room, this is what you find:
|I'm just going to sit here and play my "tabewit."|
For the rest of the day, you remain curled in the fetal position, your thumb a source of great comfort…
I’ve dumped my 18,000 words in WIP#2 to begin WIP#3.
Starting again. New genre – new hope.
This one’s a thriller about a dad who keeps losing his kids (it’s not, but it probably should be!!) It feels better than WIP#2, but we’ll see…
|No. 1 Son: "Hi, everyone! Look at me, I'm not lost!"|