My wife took our kids to a local water park a couple of weeks ago. I was at work during this excursion, wiling the day away with full certainty the kids would have a great time likely at the cost of my wife’s wits. I was right on both counts.
This particular park does an excellent job of helping parents keep track of their kids. They go so far as to sound an alarm every 15-20 minutes which serves as an opportunity for the kids to exit the water so they can be counted. The lifeguards are pretty relentless about this too. If some kid decides he doesn’t need to get out then no one else goes back in until he does get out. There’s even a drill that takes place in the event a child comes up missing. The parents are asked to lock their arms and wade into the water together (as long as they don’t have small children to tend to) searching and clearing the area directly in front of them. I lean toward the overly cautious side so these steps are just the kind of thing I like to see.
On this day the alarm sounded and kids were counted. Just as everyone was heading back into the water a mother cried out. She couldn’t find her daughter.
My wife and girls were at the park with our neighbor, another mom, and her two boys. They quickly sat the kids down on a blanket and directed them to NOT MOVE. The parents locked elbows and began wading into the water while others began looking in other areas of the park. My wife was looking over her shoulder at our kids almost constantly. The children sat on the blanket. Stock still and wide eyed.
Within minutes the girl was found. She had wandered outside the water area and was just out of sight. She was returned to her mother and I imagine there was a collective sigh among the parents and lifeguards.
When my wife returned to our kids, who still hadn’t moved, our four year old girl Ava asked, “Did you find her?”
“Someone did honey. She’s right over there with her Mommy. Everything is fine. Are you ok?”
Ava looked up and asked, “Kids really do go missing?’”
My wife responded, telling Ava that kids do sometimes go missing and our occasional warnings to she and her little sister are real. She explained that we just want to keep everyone safe and together.
Ava said she understood and had a great big hug for her mom. The littler one, Jada, was also keen to what was going on and wedged herself in between the two of them.
My wife relayed this story to me on the phone after they had come home and the kids were down for their naps. I was obviously relieved there had been no tragedy’s to report.
When I got home that evening Ava met me at the door. She filled me in on what had happened at the park. The detail she remembered was impressive. The hair color of the girl that had slipped away. The color of her bathing suit. How she had hugged her mom when they were reunited. Ava also told me that “sometimes kids do go missing, Daddy”.
I told her, “I know” and we hugged for a good long time.
This may have been a tough way for her to learn the truth of the dangers that are out there, but I’m grateful she learned.
I just shook my head and went about peering through the microscope at different things as my mind raced. I remembered my childhood. One of my fondest memories is playing with my microscope. I would scoop stagnant water out of a pond, or mount a dead fly onto a slide and I would sit there for hours marveling at the minuscule world that existed right under my nose. I felt pity for the person sitting beside me, for her generation and the ones after. Most of them would never know how exhilarating it is to discover things on your own, rather than it being handed to you. I left the museum a few hours later, but that feeling stayed with me for a little while.
Jada is one emotional little girl. She’ll be fine one moment and just crushed the next. For her there’s always some act that justifies her sorrow. The issue is the lack of rhyme or reason. She may crash because she’s frustrated she can’t get her shoes on properly, or because she woke from her nap too soon. Maybe a bug landed on her while playing outside. Who knows. What sets her off one day, or hour, may not set her off the next.
In addition to the two teenagers I also have three younger kids, all girls and all under the age of 5. The 3 and 4 year old speak and communicate very well. The seven month old just wonders why no one else speaks her language. We do teach the idea of context to the 3 and 4 years old, explaining it as “the whole story”. I think they get it. They understand when they come to their mother or I with a complaint or need we often ask the why or how questions rather than just handing out some punishment or object of their desire. This comes at a cost though and is where I think the value of context can be tarnished.
“None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware” – 
Watching my son graduate was a pretty intense and satisfying time. I’ve always struggled to really know my son, rather I have always felt I should or could know him better. The kind of knowing that comes with living with someone day in and day out for years. Precisely the kind of knowing I have been without due to the limitations that come with the badge of divorce. Alas, all was not lost. Our relationship is intact and I expect will only improve now that he will be venturing out on his own.
The class got together and performed a few choreographed songs for the event. The teacher presented each child with their graduation certificate and announced a few facts for each child. One of these facts was what the children wanted to be when they grew up. Amid the proclamations of doctor, zoo worker, teacher and mom my daughter said she wanted to be a princess. Sure, this career choice isn’t grounded entirely in reality but it could happen. I like the idea that my little girl isn’t entirely grounded in reality either. That will come soon enough, and for what it’s worth … my girls have always been and will always be my little princesses.
