Once, when I was about four or five years old, I ran ahead of the family while we were returning from a walk through the Arboretum. I missed the turn off the trail where the car was parked and quickly found myself horribly lost. At first there was panic, then the resolve that they had gone home without me, and I would simply have to walk home alone. But that's another story. Here's what happened yesterday.
I was riding home from Bellevue on the bicycle trail when I spotted a little boy about four or five years old, on a tiny bike, going in the opposite direction. It was one of those miniature bikes with knobby fat tires and a cast iron frame weighing more than the child who was intended to ride it. I went past him and very quickly became aware that there were no adults nearby. The rascal was all alone! The memory of panic from my youthful experience made me fear for that mischievous child.
So how could I, as a total stranger, stop the straying urchin and convince him that I could help him find his parents? I had no idea who his parents were. Was he supposed to be with an older sibling? Maybe a babysitter? All I knew was he shouldn't be alone.
I needed to find a responsible adult, but I could see a long distance and there was absolutely nobody in sight. That scalawag was approaching a busy intersection filled with impatient commuters who might not even notice such a tiny child. I decided to stay with him and work something out.
I said, "Hi there, is your mom or your dad around here somewhere?"
He motioned back up the hill and said, "My mom is back there."
"Don't you think you should go back there and stay near your mom?"
"No, I want to go home."
"Where is your home?"
"Down that way," he said, pointing ahead toward the rumbling congested intersection. I began freaking out! I absolutely could not let that small fry go through the intersection alone.
"You need to be with some people who can take care of you."
"There are people at home."
I needed to give him a reason to go back. I cajoled, "Those people at home probably want your mom to be there too. I'm worried that your mom is in trouble and she needs our help. Shall we go back there and find her?"
He thought about it and replied, "My brother is with her. But he goes too slow."
"I'm certain your mom needs help and we need to go help her."
"Hey, there's my mom now!"
I looked up to see a woman on a bike coming down the trail with a frantic look on her face. Sometimes a frantic look like that can be a good sight to see and this was one of those occasions.
[The lecture from the mom is omitted here.]
I can rest in peace knowing that somewhere in the world is a toddler who did NOT get run over by a car. The little tyke will probably forget this experience. In the future he will NOT tell a story about how scared he was when he lost his mother.
