It all unfolded at the theater after we enjoyed a lively 90-minute performance of Peter Rabbit. My ten-year-old son mentioned he needed to use the restroom, and I cautioned him about the long line. With the library just next door as our next stop, I suggested he go there instead. In hindsight, I should have confirmed our plan before turning away. While I busied myself with our things, my two sons slipped out and headed downstairs. By the time I reached the bustling foyer, they were nowhere to be found.
I wasn’t overly alarmed; my annoyance outweighed my concern as I made my way to the library, scanning the street. We first checked the men’s restroom, but my youngest just peeked in to see if they were inside. I then went to the holds section, where we usually pick up our books. After leaving a note telling them to stay put and that I’d be back, I hurried to the theater, whispering a quick prayer as we left the library.
I suddenly remembered to switch my phone back on, which I had set to flight mode during the show. As I neared the foyer, my phone rang, and there they were: my eldest son clutching the theater’s vintage phone while his eight-year-old brother fought back tears, watched by three staff members.
I hope they saw the relief in my smile; I didn’t need words to express my gratitude to them. I turned my attention to my sons, embracing my eight-year-old, who had finally let his emotions flow. I explained I had been searching for them at the library and took a moment to listen to their side of the story.
My eldest revealed that after I suggested the library restroom, he had decided to go to the theater instead. He didn’t realize I hadn’t heard him. Once they came out and noticed I was missing, they sought assistance. I felt proud that they stayed together, asked for help, and that my middle son remembered my phone number.
In the end, I was even thankful that this incident occurred. The entire ordeal lasted less than ten minutes; I was never truly worried, and they were not frightened. We all learned valuable lessons.
On the way home, I emphasized the key takeaways from our experience (and continued to do so over dinner). We discussed the significance of staying together, knowing my phone number, and the importance of communication. I pointed out the pitfalls of miscommunication and the advantages of asking questions and listening instead of just giving instructions.
I decided to quiz the kids on my phone number, hoping to reinforce it. I had previously tried teaching them, and while the eight-year-old had memorized it, the ten-year-old had not. “I hate memorizing numbers,” he lamented. “They’re slippery and fall out of my ears!” This got me thinking.
He needed a reason to remember it. While the experience of getting lost might help, I needed a strategy to ensure he retained it. I had an idea: I would set a password on the kids’ account on my computer—a number he needed to know for more than just screen time.
Although the specifics of that day may fade, I have faith that if my children have to enter my phone number to access the computer, that memory will stick.
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Summary:
This article recounts a parent’s experience of losing her children in a crowded theater and the lessons learned from the incident. The author emphasizes the importance of communication, staying together, and knowing emergency contact information. Ultimately, the experience turned into a valuable teaching moment for her children, highlighting the need for preparedness in potentially frightening situations.