Benjamin Penguin

Or, “I nearly gave my Mama a heart attack. Silly me!”

There are many well-worn adages about parenthood that I often mentally refer to as well, that won’t happen to me warnings. You know, things like: infants not sleeping through the night, breastfeeding isn’t easy, toddlers don’t eat, toddlers have tantrums, etc. I only half listen when I hear them, foolishly optimistic that I will skirt every scenario and find myself the exception to a rather unbending rule. Let’s add a new one to the list, shall we? I can now claim membership in the “I only turned my head for a second and he wasn’t there when I looked back” category of parenting.

Sunday afternoon, Adam, Benjamin and I all took in the colorful sights of Christmas trees at the Museum of Science and Industry. I love, love, love holiday excess and nothing quite does it like this display. Benjamin, as to be expected, was more interested in the large model train display. And in being held by Daddy, which is likely why Adam is still nursing a muscle knot the size of Texas. (And, let me add that I am stoically trying my hardest to refrain from jealousy that Ben is going through an all-Daddy, all-the-time phase. I’m not entirely chopped liver, but then, I’m not cake either. Who am I here? I am not a jealous person. But I digress….)

On Sunday evening, I had about 5 million books to return to the library, so I decided to bring along my already overstimulated toddler on what is undoubtably a very mundane task. Also? Sometimes I don’t think things through all the way. Those that know I spent two weeks in beauty school before dropping out need no further evidence of this claim. But for reasons unknown to me, it made perfect sense to take an already-yawning toddler, bundle him in the car and then unbundle him while balancing books, videos and CDs in my wobbly arms. Great fun. But, enter greater fun still. I was just  unloading my last armful of books into the return bin, having just glanced to see Ben standing there, when I glanced back and noticed empty floor where there was once a Benjamin.

Have you ever just been standing someplace unawares and then all of a sudden, someone running to get somewhere quickly knocks into you and you both fall down? One minute you were standing and then the next minute you were toe-up in the air and wondering why you were staring at a large cloud mass. This is kind of how it felt to turn around and not see Benjamin there. Instantly, I had a heart palpitation so fierce that it rivaled a grand coronary. Oh, Lord, did he exit the main doors to the outside? Oh MY GOD, did someone take him? I started darting around the front entryway, looking outside, looking in the cafe, nearly pushing people out of my way in my frantic dash around the relatively small space. In the end, he had followed someone through the open door leading into the main library – a distance of about 5 feet from where I was standing. He was darting around  the interior lobby of the library, laughing and giggling without a care in the world. Enter distraught mother, eyes of the world on her, wondering why in the hell she allowed her toddler naughty, unchecked free reign of the library.

I suppose that you never really learn something until you experience that very thing for yourself. Let this be the conclusion of this little lesson.