All Things Children
Thought this would be some sweet memory about my two sons, right? Wrong.
I was convinced years ago that both of my children would grow up to be politicians. They were, after all, masters at getting their way. They could convince the world that whatever they said was in fact, gospel. They would do things just to see the “pretty red color” that Mommy’s face would turn. And they used all kinds of methods too.
Like the time my oldest, then four, almost got me arrested. Oh yeah, sure did…want to trade lives? Hey, and I let him live after this incident too. Go figure.
You see, my Mother, my juvenile delinquent son, and moi visited a shopping mall far away from home, and in an area I wasn’t familiar with, just to set the scene. Earlier that week, we’d heard a child had been abducted from this same mall. So needless to say, I had a death hold on the little monst—ah…on my son. Your life can change in the blink of an eye. I let go of his hand for a fraction of a second and whoosh! He was gone. I turned around to grab his hand and--no son. I turned to Mother hoping she had him. We looked at each other and panicked. We started running between clothes racks, salespeople, and shoppers, all the while screaming his name. I was as close to a heart attack as I know I’ve ever been. My precious son! Someone had stolen my precious son! How could I live, how could I go o---“Ladies and gentleman, we have a small boy who says his name is Tommy. Would the Mommy who BEATS HIM BLACK AND BLUE please come to the Lost and Found?”
It crossed my mind to leave quickly and just pretend I’d never given birth, but I wasn’t carrying around those stretch marks in vain, no sir ree. I told Mother to follow me and she said, “No way! You’re on your own.” Benedict Arnold. When I arrived at the Lost and Found, there sat the Devil’s spawn himself, licking a sucker his new friends had given him and holding the hand of a “so not happy” official looking person. Down here we call them “Family Services.”
After three hours of intense interrogation, I was set free and gently, ohhhhhh so gently, I took my son’s hand and lead him out of the mall. Mother was waiting in the car reading her book and just smiled as we approached her. Once he was securely fastened in the backseat and I had calmed myself, I turned to the little heathen and started to let him have it when he said, “Mommy, what’s 911?” I decided to let that one go. Score one for the kid.
I was convinced years ago that both of my children would grow up to be politicians. They were, after all, masters at getting their way. They could convince the world that whatever they said was in fact, gospel. They would do things just to see the “pretty red color” that Mommy’s face would turn. And they used all kinds of methods too.
Like the time my oldest, then four, almost got me arrested. Oh yeah, sure did…want to trade lives? Hey, and I let him live after this incident too. Go figure.
You see, my Mother, my juvenile delinquent son, and moi visited a shopping mall far away from home, and in an area I wasn’t familiar with, just to set the scene. Earlier that week, we’d heard a child had been abducted from this same mall. So needless to say, I had a death hold on the little monst—ah…on my son. Your life can change in the blink of an eye. I let go of his hand for a fraction of a second and whoosh! He was gone. I turned around to grab his hand and--no son. I turned to Mother hoping she had him. We looked at each other and panicked. We started running between clothes racks, salespeople, and shoppers, all the while screaming his name. I was as close to a heart attack as I know I’ve ever been. My precious son! Someone had stolen my precious son! How could I live, how could I go o---“Ladies and gentleman, we have a small boy who says his name is Tommy. Would the Mommy who BEATS HIM BLACK AND BLUE please come to the Lost and Found?”
It crossed my mind to leave quickly and just pretend I’d never given birth, but I wasn’t carrying around those stretch marks in vain, no sir ree. I told Mother to follow me and she said, “No way! You’re on your own.” Benedict Arnold. When I arrived at the Lost and Found, there sat the Devil’s spawn himself, licking a sucker his new friends had given him and holding the hand of a “so not happy” official looking person. Down here we call them “Family Services.”
After three hours of intense interrogation, I was set free and gently, ohhhhhh so gently, I took my son’s hand and lead him out of the mall. Mother was waiting in the car reading her book and just smiled as we approached her. Once he was securely fastened in the backseat and I had calmed myself, I turned to the little heathen and started to let him have it when he said, “Mommy, what’s 911?” I decided to let that one go. Score one for the kid.
posted by Queen Jaw Jaw at
8:17 AM
6 Comments:
Hilarious....in a scary kind of way of course (!!)....makes me think that it wasn't so bad after all NOT to have kids!
Pinki
JJ, I can't believe it, the same thing happened to me with my oldest when he was that age, but he didn't go to security, he was just joyfully hiding inside of a clothes rack, thinking it was funny not to answer us. My MIL was there and made them lockdown the entire store!
Thanks for the trip down memory lane.
Robin
Lie away. Puleeeease! Love these stories you tell, Georgia!
I've got my own "sonny dearest" tales. (Don't we all? PLEASE tell me we all do.) One time I thought my 18 month old was taking a nap (he's 21 now), so I decided to use the time to go outside and garden with my older kids in tow. Unbeknownst to me, the little critter never actually fell asleep. Instead, as soon as I walked out of the house, he must have crawled out of his crib, toddled down the stairs, opened the fridge, taken out a plastic squeeze bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup, and proceeded to stand on a chair and put it in the mircrowave. He randomly pushed a bunch of buttons and ended up setting the time for ONE HOUR!!! Yes, one hour. At some point, I walked back inside the house--I'd probably only been outdoors 15 minutes--and found the little tyke sitting on top of the fridge. On TOP of the fridge. The bottle of chocolate syrup had exploded in the microwave, but he didn't know that. He was just waiting for the bell to go "ding." What an incredible mess. The plastic of the container had fused to the inside of the microwave. I couldn't afford to buy a new one, so I boiled a pot of water and spent the next hour, at least, re-melting the plastic so that I could unfuse it. Just one of my many kid stories. Ahhh, the joys of being a mom. Sure miss those days. (Ha!)
Georgia, Brilliant as usual. I can't remember all that password and username stuff so I thought this is easiest. Continue with the great stories>
Love,
Lisa
Georgia,
Beautiful and funny, as usual! You know exactly where the tickle bone is and I can safely say, I've been tickled!
Toni
JJ:
You're so funny! What a scary situation! Thank God it all turned out Ok, but kids can get us in a lot of trouble these days, huh? And adults... they abandon us when we need them the most...
If I were in a similar situation, there was no way my mom would go away and leave me "on my own". Glad you can laugh about it now!
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