Yesterday when we arrived at the HG’s house, we sent the FYB with the Cherub to the family room at the back of the house. The Cherub had been in the front room with the rest of us, but she kept getting into things and the front room opens on the kitchen where there are too many temptations for the Cherub to resist.
There were several things he could do there while keeping the Cherub out of mischief, and that way the HG wouldn’t be embarrassed about answering the midwifery assistant’s questions about this and that.
Then somebody sent him out the side door to buckle the Striderling’s and Princess Peach’s carseats into the other Grandmama’s car. He finished that and started to come back in, but somebody else gave him stuff to carry out to the car. Meanwhile, the HG was ready for some calm and it was time for the rest of us to go, so we started gathering up our things and saying our goodbyes and picking up the babies to have them kiss their parents good-bye. The Boy finished loading the stuff he’d been given, and started to come back in, but then the midwife arrived, and I sent him back to help her carry her things in,
And thus it was that as Pip was helping to buckle babies in carseats, and I was carrying stuff out to put it in the car, and the FYB was handing over midwifery equipment to Strider that the FYG started to climb into the Auntmobile and shouted, “The Cherub!! We left the Cherub inside!”
We’d come this close to driving off leaving the Cherub in the family room of her (we thought) labouring sister and distracted brother-in-law.
Leaving her behind has been one of my biggest fears ever since she joined the family. Since she can’t talk and has no sense of personal safety, I am always double checking that we have her. I may have been the one to walk her out and buckle her into the van but as we are pulling out of the driveway I will do a panicked doubletake and gasp, “Did we get the Cherub?!”
We left her brother at church once, for about fifteen minutes. I turned around and drove back to get him and was at the front of the building as he realized he’d been left and came dashing out. Other people were still at church. Our church building is on a busy road, and unfortunately, he mistook my panicked shout of STAY THERE and thought I’d said, “COME HERE!” and he dashed across two lanes of traffic- where I, even more panicked, threw open the van door and scooped him up by his back belt buckle and pulled him over my lap and into the van headfirst in about a nanosecond. He said that was even scarier than being left behind.
We left JennyAnyDots once, for about two minutes. It was only a few weeks after our family had grown from five to seven overnight, and we’d gone for a walk with friends who had an equally large family. We’d stopped by at her house for bathroom breaks for everybody. I did count heads before we left again, but in the general mill and chaos I counted somebody twice. So that time it wasn’t that I forgot somebody, it was that I miscounted and thought I had everybody. Not a good thing to do to a newly adopted child, btw. I rushed back and she was standing at the front door screaming in panic. She thought we’d left her on purpose. That was a horrible feeling.
My middle brother was the one who got left behind most often. My parents always drove both cars to church because Dad was the preacher and wanted to get there early (and not bother with helping get kids ready). After church, quite often, each parent would assume the other had him, and he’d be left in the church building, and dad would drive back to get him (fortunately, it wasn’t far).
I don’t think I was ever left, although I did the leaving myself quite a few times.
What about you? Ever forgotten a child? Been the forgotten one?