Our crèche lost our kid. I’m okay with it.

Mister has had a traumatic life, what with showing up early, and hanging out in a PICU for a few weeks. He’s sort of always in trouble. The weird thing is that he is so mild-mannered about life in general but he keeps getting himself into hiccups that leads me to believe that he will get a girl pregnant by the time he’s 15 or become a kleptomaniac.

Both of these things lead to the same anxiety level.

Thursday was no exception. After a morning outside, his teachers lead him and the 15 other kids back inside the school. Except they got side-tracked and confused and left our son outside in the car park.

IN THE CAR PARK.

Well, not really. They left him on the stone stairs that lead down to the car park. Dangerous and wrong but not as horrifying as leaving my kid in traffic.

Bub rang after he spoke to the head of the school to tell me the news, except he did it like this:

Me: Hello? Bub: Hi. Everything is okay. Have you heard? Me: Um…? Heard what? Bub: When you hear what I’m about to tell you I want you to remember that everything is okay. I’m angry and upset but everything is all right.

clicksilence*

So, I’m thinking he lost his job. Bub works for a rather large company and if there were big layoffs, or it was sold, or it went bankrupt, it would instantly be on the news. Him asking me if I heard meant that I should check RTE, and then start practising on a pole because I was going to need a night job.

Hm, what would my stripper name be? American Annie? Luscious Lizzie? Do strippers have special names?

He rings back a moment later.

Me: Really?? Bub: Sorry. I knew that was happen, too. Heh. Me: WHAT HAPPENED? Bub: Okay. It’s fine. But the crèche rang and they lost James for a minute.

See? Not what I was expecting. Which is why I think I had such a cavalier attitude about it. I was upset that someone could misplace my child in one of the most dangerous areas of the school (besides the nails, knives and scissors room), sure, but at the same time I was so happy that I wouldn’t have to invest in pleather thongs that I think the severity of the situation was lost on me.

Bub was not so fine. He was outraged and I can see why. I pay them to think of my child’s welfare 100% of the time during their workday when they’re not having a break, eating lunch or on the toilet. The rest of the time they should be, ideally, thinking about the well-being of the children who have been put into their care for an exorbitant price.

But this isn’t an ideal world; this is reality. In reality, my parents lost me in Macy’s during Christmas time. In reality, Bub used to hide in clothing racks from his mother for a laugh. In reality, we think we’re being 100% the best parents/caregivers ever, but you never will be. I can’t worry about what has already happened, I can only worry about what will happen in the future and after a scare like this, and the awkward phone call that followed, and the many subsequent chats we have had with the staff since, I genuinely do not think that they are being negligent with our child on a regular basis. Or even a semi-regular basis. I think this was one of those ‘99% of the time I am on top of my game and I hope I’m asleep that other 1%’ sort of situations.

If something had actually happened; if he was hit by a car or wandered out into the street or wasn’t found within a minute I’m sure my feelings on the matter would be very different but since he is fine and happy and now has a story to tell the whole world every chance he gets, I’m finding my own happy place and getting over it.

I swear to you, I have never been so proud of myself for being so zen. Must be all that coke I'm not drinking.

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Liz in Dublin