I found out on Monday that Nick’s schedule at school was not exactly what I thought it was. In my head, he was going Monday, Wednesday and Thursday just like Maggie went last year.
“See you tomorrow!” his teacher said as we were leaving pick-up on Monday.
“Oh, not tomorrow. He comes back on Wednesday,” I said.
“Um, I have him on my schedule for tomorrow, I think,” she said as she checked her schedule.
At this point I began to remember the conversation I had with the director weeks before where she asked me how married to those days I was. I told her the Tuesday or Wednesday day was fine, just to let me know.
Long story long, I have been juggling some appointments for this week and next week, but after that, it won’t matter much that I can tell.
But that meant today Maggie and I had an unplanned day together. So after we stopped at the pediatrician to rule out a yeast infection or UTI (that would be a whole other post) we headed to the local children’s science museum for a mother/daughter afternoon.
We went directly to the moon walk feature where the person is attached to a harness which simulates the gravity (or lack there of) on the moon. Somehow I ended up in a harness right next to Maggie. As we waited in the on-deck circle, I witnessed a woman almost having her large bosoms removed from her body by said harness. But I was strapped in and there was no turning back. It ended up being fun for Maggie and for my small bosom. Whew.
After a few more exhibits and running into some friends, we had a little bit of time before heading to pick Nick up from school. The center of the building is called the Tower. Makes sense, because it goes up a few floors and there are all these climby things and tunnels. Cool. Maggie ventured up and back down a few times. I took a moment to play a healthy food version of whack-a-mole and just like that, like a scene from a freaking movie, she was gone.
I went up a level, then another. Then back down three levels to the bottom. Then watched for a moment (really, I have no idea for how short long because time stops when you are looking for your child in a huge public place.)
I checked tunnels. I checked climby things. I called out, but it was louder than loud so calling out did no good.
I stayed calm. I was sure at any moment she would appear. I was 99.9% sure.
The .1% of me that was not sure, ended up at the desk at the bottom of the stairs, which also happened to be the entrance/exit.
I walked up to a nice young man working behind the counter.
“What do you do for a missing child?” I asked, still rather calm and levelheaded.
(To be continued…)