The first one stuck with us until almost the bottom of the escalator. The minute she spotted the miles of booths on the floor, she bolted. She ran as fast as she could, weaving between rows and fans as if the hounds of the Baskerville were after her. I could barely keep up…sort of hopping along weaving and bobbing on my own while trying to keep her in sight.
Once G caught up with me, I turned over our flitting granddaughter to him. He lost her. We spent the next hour and a half searching for her. Perhaps we should have let security know, but how could they find one more kid dressed in black with a hoodie on.
She asked, “How did you find me, gramma?”
The reality was, suddenly there she was right in front of me. Planned, I’m sure. The cell phones worked. G met up with Mohave and I and we stuck together for the rest of the day.
Not safe, not safe at all. Frightening. And I have to tell her mother.
Sunday all seemed well. We arrived together. We met with her friends together….we liked them. G said check with us at noon. She did. All was well. Three hours later, when her dad called and said he was ready to have her delivered, there was no Beth at the Convention Center. She had tried to call G three times, but she wouldn’t walk to the room where she knew we were. She did walk a mile away to have lunch with her friends at Horton Plaza. She’s an adult.
Once we found her, she wouldn’t walk a block to find the trolley stop. Just one block north. No. We would get on a trolley at the convention center and meet her at the 3rd and C Street Trolley stop. No. She wouldn’t do it. Nothing we said convinced her to walk that one block. This was not the time to try anything new, she told us. We had her dad on one phone and her mom had her on another.
Oh, we were angry. So we caught a trolley that took us to Horton Plaza, we called her and said we were on our way, and we met her at the obelisk by the theater. Imagine. We walked the one block back, and we took the trolley to the car, to Las Coches Road….tho we thought we were meeting them in town.
It was a blessing to see them both, but with one it wasn’t safe. With the other, it wasn't responsible. We were not responsible grandparents bu not knowing what to expect. They were not functional grandkids. No communication or lack of communication……..either way, it didn’t work. I don’t want to deal with a frightening lack of communication like this again.
Hmmm. I can remember when my kids were that age. Frustation comes to mind.
ReplyDeleteIt's a helluva lot easier when you're young and pry. Ain't exact easy even then! What do people keep having kids?
ReplyDelete