Ordinarily Extraordinary
I drive to school very slowly because I am very early. I am very early in order to secure the one spot on the road that I have identified as being the perfect spot. I am a season ahead of myself because I am exceptionally clever person too. I know that the spot in the scorching sun in October, will transform itself into the perfect spot as soon as the weather changes. To park under a tree in the shade now, will be one that drips with rain, in the future. I don’t want to sign my own death warrant.
I am tired after several nights of inadequate sleep. I am relaxed after having thrown many pounds of clay all around my garage. My eyes travel ahead watching the road with care. I slow down when my eyes recognize danger. The danger takes the form of a small boy, who sits a few inches from the curb in a bright orange T-shirt, always my first choice of colour for small boys.
I slow down to a snail's pace. I identify an adult close by wearing a dun coloured outfit, so that she blends in with her surroundings. I assume she is not the mother, because as we all know, mothers must wear primary coloured clothes or neon, so that they can be more quickly identified by their offspring, should they ever be mis-fortunate enough to be in a crowd. Even without the crowd, indeed, on an arid landscape that is flat as a pancake, a neon coloured 5 foot 6 size mother, can often prove to be quite invisible.
I crawl along the curb to confirm that the extraordinary sight is real, rather than a figment of my imagination. A small boy plays with dump trucks in the dirt, a full 12 long paces from the adult. I know that the adult must be both a marathon runner and a superb sprinter to allow for such a vast chasm of space to have developed between her and the child. The woman plants the edge of her sidewalk. She is about half way through a whole box of plants. I am an efficient plantswoman myself. That much work would take approximately 15 to 20 minutes, if you assume that she prepared the ground beforehand. I look more closely because the woman has a cast on her leg, which means that she must have a leash around the child that is secured to a six foot stake with a 4 inch padlock. I fail to see any of the evidence that my mind needs to witness. I drive on past, confused and befuddled.
How does she do that? What is her secret? I glance in the rear view mirror to check if it was a mirage. It isn't. They are still there. They are still static, probably for as long as 4 minutes. I rack my brain for the elusive answer? Is there a pocket of extra strong gravity along that stretch of sidewalk? Has she filled his pockets with rocks? Were his sneaker made of lead? Is there a hidden force field or electric fence that I missed?
Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? I reach the only logical conclusion possible. Obviously the woman has attached a roller skate to the bottom of her cast and the elastic around the child is the invisible variety.
October 20th, 2007 at 11:57 pm
Our special needs kids train us well, don’t they? That said, having babysat an assorted number of NT kids, including nieces and nephews, I’ve concluded that children come mainly in 2 varieties: those who stay put(more or less) and those who don’t. Strangely enough, planting was the one activity that kept my Aspie still when he was little. He wanted to be a landscape gardener and enjoyed working out the planting scheme in his head then telling me where to put the bulbs. He ran off, though, as soon as I got the general idea and was about half-way through. Normal children do that, too.
October 21st, 2007 at 1:14 am
i am just getting used to not holding my son’s hand when we walk up the road ( the deal is he has to walk within grabbing distance of me or i make him hold hands, which for a cool 12 year old is the pits). it’s ironic, we get mobility allowance for him – the most mobile child in the world – because he can’t go out on his own yet.
October 21st, 2007 at 2:15 am
I must admit, i was in plaster for a good few years, and often thought about attaching a roller skate to keep up with C!
October 21st, 2007 at 3:20 am
Ha! I love your irony, so funny but sad. Course, the boy’s drugged – no question!
October 21st, 2007 at 3:22 am
I don’t believe it is a matter of a well-behaved, controlled child as no such thing exists. So far this woman has just been lucky. I’m reminded of an article I read in Reader’s Digest about people who accidently killed their own children. One ran over her tiny toddler because she thought he was already in the car. When you treat your child as a possession instead of a person things you don’t want to happen, happen.
October 21st, 2007 at 4:46 am
Obviously you couldn’t see the iron stake pinning his t-shirt to the ground… it must have been behind his back. If she was really competent, it would go through the waistband of his shorts too.
October 21st, 2007 at 6:20 am
hehe … I have one of those kids that freakishly does not wander far from me …. it is her personality not control, she is just a stick close to mom when out kid. I do not take it for granted although she is granted more freedoms than a runner kid would.
October 21st, 2007 at 9:00 am
Yes, DS doesn’t go too far as well. Although you will frequntly find him far enough that you will wonder exactly where the hell his mother is. Then, just like that, he turns and races back to me. He has his own comfort zone. And, despite the screams of terrors from other mothers as he races to the street, he always stops and waits . . . or races back, because staying still is asking a lot.
My DH did get run over by his parents when playing hid and seek with his brothers. He hid under the car, and they forgot about him.
October 21st, 2007 at 11:31 am
Oh dear…yes some things are just beyond reason! I am used to the good ol’ hand hold (my previous charges were very very good about this) however my new little guy doesn’t seem to be interested in this which has me frazzled even within the confinds of home!
October 21st, 2007 at 11:56 am
I have 1 mostly stay-put/hider and 1 semi-ex-runner, mostly wanderer. Unfortunately the stay put boy is also a follow-his-brother boy, so if the older one wanders into the street, the little one is right behind him. I am a don’t-sit-down or turn arounder, because doing so somehow turns off the invisible forcefields baracading my boys. As long as I am standing and facing them, everyone is somewhat safe.
October 21st, 2007 at 12:39 pm
I’ll bet that mom can’t figure out why we’re sprinting after our kids. Is that child pumped up on caffeine and sugar? Are they training together for a race? What is going on?
October 21st, 2007 at 1:08 pm
My girls would have stayed, but not my son. Even if he did I wouldn’t let him sit close to the curb.
October 21st, 2007 at 2:52 pm
I remember when Joel was one-ish–walked early, etc.–we were at a park with another mom and her son (same age but not yet mobile). Joel set off across the park, and this mom, full of the wisdom of college child development classes, said, “oh, there’s only a certain distance he will go before he’ll come back, don’t worry.” We sat there and watched–there was probably a half mile of grass and then a fence, so I felt safe waiting for him to reach the end of this invisible ‘cord.’
He made it all the way to the fence, never turning around once to see where I was. Determined, independent little guy.
I think it’s a matter of personality.
October 21st, 2007 at 6:34 pm
I would be so totally stresed if my child was that far off from me. But, my child is very impulsive, does not understand dangers in traffic. She is always bolting in parking lots and forgets which way is the way back to wherever I am.
October 21st, 2007 at 7:07 pm
Oh, yes. To be that mom. But is she that way because her child doesn’t stray or is she just oblivious to the risks. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being able to sit down once in awhile but I guess I am just more of a hover mom. I can’t imagine myself being that comfortable letting my child that far away and so close to the curb!
October 22nd, 2007 at 4:45 am
My older son is like that. He’s always been aware of danger and he’s a big “rule follower”. On another day this post would have made me cry. I remember finally getting Patrick into the car at preschool (where I was the only parent who stayed with my child mostly because of running issues) and just letting the tears flow because I just once wanted a child who was “normal”. Not my proudest moment but there you go.