I have dozens of childhood memories that include me
and my siblings waiting in the car for our parents. Most notably, I remember us
waiting at the bank and my little brother, probably preschool age, backing the
car into an adjacent lot. The story is told in jest now, and my mother was most
definitely a helicopter parent of her time. That’s just how it was.
But it’s 2013 and we use
car seats and bike helmets and you can’t leave your kids in the car anymore.
There is no “running in” anywhere and even going to the bank to deposit a check
is a full blown ordeal.
I ran errands one day last week and pulled my two kids
in and out of the car no less than 15 times before noon. It was 80 degrees
outside and I was taking our cat to the groomer. Here I am holding a 20-pound
infant who is diving out of my arms with a cat carrier in one hand and
attempting to wrangle a bolting preschooler with the other. Add the diaper bag
and I’m a walking circus. Once I finally got everyone loaded into the car I
realized that I forgot the checkbook and the grooming salon ONLY TAKES CHECKS.
I contemplated
leaving my kids in the car while I ran back up to our apartment. The car was
parked in the driveway in a shady area. I would only be a second. The windows
were down.
Then I
pictured myself falling up the stairs and twisting my ankle. Or being stopped by
a neighbor who wanted to chat. Answering a phone call. My mind flashed to any
number of things that could keep me from getting back to my car full of the most
precious people in the world to me.
So I schlepped them all back inside.
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