Bolting [ England is evil 4]
It’s a common enough issue for many a parent. One moment they’re there, the next moment they’re gone, without so much as a puff of smoke. It is familiar territory for many a parent. It wouldn’t be so bad if there was some kind of warning or preamble:- “Hey mom! I’m just going to trot up to the top of that mountain o’er yonder to investigate the sparkly thing on the top. Catcha in 5!” Then they’d be the chance to intervene, deflect or distract. Perhaps they already know the IDD tactic that we parents employ? Whatever the case, the truth of the matter is that an AWOL child produces an instantly insane parent. It’s a given.
Exceptionally good parents, such as myself, know that the only solution is constant supervision, never let your guard down, never assume anything. This is the relationship that me and my bolter have enjoyed ever since his legs started working in a vertical propulsion kind of way rather than a horizontal kind of kicking the air kind of way. I’ve had seven years to perfect the art of padlocking the bolter.
But of course there’s always jet lag.
We slumber, all of us in our second floor flat in the holiday let at the seaside in the pitch black of the silent hours. Their father is with his mother, on the other side of town. The click of the unfamiliar latch is the only clue as the door closes with a sigh. I stagger out into the hall. For some reason my brain clings to the false clue, the empty unworn shoes on the mat. I force my mind to the land of reason, where no-one around here ever wears shoes voluntarily. I hover, can I leave two children asleep and unsupervised? I grab the keys and lunge out the door, down the stairs to the front entrance with the even bigger lock that closes automatically as a safety device. I whip outside to the forecourt and parked cars and the empty road. There is no sign of him in any direction. I hop from one foot to the other, which way to go? How far could he get in five seconds, or is it ten seconds or maybe several life times? Horror stories, headlines and urban myths percolate through my last functioning brain cell.
Cell phone! Who should I phone?
I cross the road to check in both directions down the dip.
Nothing. I dash back strangely breathless with the deafening thud of my heart beat. Blood rushes through my ear drums. No! Waves! The beach. The sea. The water! I rush around the building to the side entrance to punch in the secret code to the gate. This is ridiculous, he’d never remember that code, alpha numeric. Did we even tell him the code? I should be looking somewhere else. Where else? I burst through the gate, over the concrete, up the steps to a vista of silver starry beach. My son lies face down drained of colour in the moonlight, slowly making sand angels with his arms and legs. I plop down next to him. I wait before I squeak. I put a hand on the small of his back and take a deep breath. This isn’t my bolter but his older brother. He rolls over lazily, “hi mom,” he beams. We return to the slumberers as we watch the moons together, the one in the sky and the one reflected on the water.
The sixth time he bolted in the same hour I had a sense of humour failure and decided to sit on him!
Well…..more like drag him into my bed and admit defeat. I’m sure I’m not the only one who adopts the parental padlock pretzel position?
I hope?
Stumble it!
July 7th, 2008 at 11:08 pm
I started opting for a flexible padlock when I had my two kids 8 years apart. My poor older kid had to make do with less supervision (trips to the restroom by himself, etc.) and more responsibility (running errands for me). Sometimes I think it was good that I was forced to ease up and sometimes I breathe a sigh of relief that nothing happened to him.
Now, he’s sixteen and just got his driver’s license today. As soon as he came home from the test, he turned to head right back out the door saying, “I’m going out driving.” What I wouldn’t have given for a padlock then! (Surely someone has invented undetectable implant technology which gives you eyes and ears to track your children at all times?)
July 8th, 2008 at 1:12 am
Oh goodness my heart would have stopped.
July 8th, 2008 at 1:36 am
Whew! How scary. I’m so glad you found him. My boy is a bolter too. Even though I always find him fast, you do go through the most horrid scenarios in your mind while looking. Hoping the evil ends soon and goodness prevails.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:29 am
I think I might have died. My bolter is bolting less these days, but the anxiety is always there, and he goes for it every now and then, just to keep us on our toes. So glad you found him!!
July 8th, 2008 at 3:30 am
I need to get in better shape. My heart has to be ready when the time comes. Of course if he’s anything like me he’ll probably be in the action figure isle.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:47 am
Oh Maddy, I was having a heartattack just reading your post. I’m so glad it didn’t turn into an international incident. I freak everytime Casey goes to the next aisle at Target without me knowing so I can’t even imagine how panicked you felt. Thank God he only wanted to make sand angels!
July 8th, 2008 at 5:41 am
Aagh! I can only begin to to imagine how you felt! It’s one reason I’m glad that when we’re at home the alarm beeps every time an external door opens. Maybe a travel version would work for you? (Obviously the click woke you so you didn’t really need the alarm, but perhaps the alarm noise would be irritating enough to them that they woudn’t bolt again after hearing it the first time?)
“the parental padlock pretzel position” - yes, I do that too!
July 8th, 2008 at 5:42 am
“Hey mom! I’m just going to trot up to the top of that mountain o’er yonder to investigate the sparkly thing on the top.”
Funnily enough, my sister did exactly this at the bottom of Ben Nevis when she was nine. She sprinted off ahead of my parents and myself, imagining that she could reach the top in five minutes and enjoy the glory of getting there first. Considering it took us the best part of five hours to get to the top and well, people die on that mountain… My Dad did make chase and caught up with her about an hour later.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:43 am
Oh…my…God…. My heart is still racing.
July 8th, 2008 at 8:03 am
I would have freaked. I have a bolter too. I lost him at vacation bible school a couple weeks ago, and found him in the parking lot by our van. He said, “Go home, Mommy?” When he saw me.
July 8th, 2008 at 10:00 am
Okay, now that my heart has resumed normal beating and my throat has released its panicked constriction, I can appreciate the sensory input he must have been getting from the cool, damp sand.
Seriously, how did you survive the trip with your sense of humor in tact?? Or all 3 kids (plus husband) in tact??
July 8th, 2008 at 12:42 pm
That picture of the feet in the sand is great. Bolting. Yup, big problem here as well. I was stressing reading this. I so know the feeling. I especially worry when M is out with someone else. I warn them about the bloting, about the running sideways all of a sudden in the parking lot. I don’t see others watching her closely when I tell them this. They don’t get how she can just do it out of the blue, when you least expect it. Terrifies me.
July 8th, 2008 at 1:19 pm
Oh yes, parenting a bolter keeps one on their toes! I lost Jaysen once, at a mega-grocery store. Found him in the video tape aisle. Scary stuff. Love the parental padlock pretzel position- comes in handy quite a bit, cutting nails, brushing teeth…
July 8th, 2008 at 1:53 pm
The p.p.p. position does come in handy sometimes doesn’t it? I’m glad you found your boy relatively quickly.
July 8th, 2008 at 2:44 pm
I know someone who used to place their child on top of the fridge, thereby always knowing where he was . . . but perhaps yours is too much of an escape artist for such tame stuff.
July 8th, 2008 at 2:53 pm
“This is the relationship that me and my bolter have enjoyed ever since his legs started working in a vertical propulsion kind of way rather than a horizontal kind of kicking the air kind of way.”
Ummm, Yeah. Sounds familliar.
“I’m not the only one who adopts the parental padlock pretzel position?”
It’s the only way I got sleep at all for several years.
I remember once looking at my husband, then at my hand, then back at my husband and commenting…”there’s nothing attached!”….oh boy did I spend a lot of time with my hand locked around his.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:30 pm
oh my the whole trip from part one on seems tremendously wearying though not without its rewards.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:37 pm
Believe me your not. The only thing is, my son is an escape artist. He can wiggle out of anything. I know the feeling though. He doesn’t bolt as much as he used to(Thank God, all the stars in heaven, and his Son for that one). It is funny that they always choose to run when you are lacking the thinking capacity to react as quickly as you normally would. Kids do the funniest things.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:45 pm
When we rented a place (2nd floor too) right on the ocean we used to barricade the door with furniture, a bike, etc.. Though I suspect Charlei would have headed quite naturally to the ocean—whenever I couldn’t find him in oh, 5 seconds, he was to be found pacing in the sand dune.
There’s a reason I think he and I are Siamese twins.
July 8th, 2008 at 6:40 pm
We’ve been pretty lucky, I guess. 3 boys - no bolters. And now they’re too old to worry about - our youngest is 17. Of course, at 26, 24 and 17 they’ve managed to find a whole new set of ways to worry us. Perhaps this is our penance for having fewer worries when they were oyunger.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:10 pm
Oh Lordy, my eldest, Feral Queen, was a bolter and my GP wouldn’t believe me when I said I had twisted my muscles putting the PPP on her for almost 6 months!
We earn our grey hair the hard way
July 8th, 2008 at 7:16 pm
This is scary!! I was afraid just reading your story.
July 8th, 2008 at 8:38 pm
Holy frickin’ cow. When we go to the beach, we do lock up just like at home, but I’m nervous that he’s going to be able to figure out the locks. Its no longer a simple matter of dragging security gates with us. I wonder if I can request a special room that allow me to padlock the door? Because Joey will do exactly what yours did- head for the sand and water.
And this wasn’t even your bolter.
Holy frickin’ cow.