Misadventure

On Sunday, October 9th, my husband took this picture.

Seems odd, I suppose, taking pictures of yourself in a public bathroom.

For thanksgiving weekend we travelled to Mississauga to spend the holiday with my Mom's family. Every year, Thanksgiving is spent together, rotating between Mississuaga, Sudbury or Pembroke.

We went shopping on Sunday, and made sure to take this picture. Anytime we are out with the kids in a crowded area, or away from our own city, we do this. That way, (shudder), if one or both of the kids were to become seperated from us, we would have a recent picture of them. In the very clothes they were wearing. If, heaven forbid, the police had to search for my kids, they picture that they would release to the media would be the most recent and accurate it could be.

I have acquaintances who have said I was paranoid for doing such a thing. Some who have said it was a good idea but that they would never remember to do it.

On Sunday, October 9th, while shopping in a large retail store, I didn't know where my son was for close to 25 minutes. 25 minutes.

Let me explain.



We were shopping as a group. My husband, myself, our 8 and 5 year old boys, along with my parents. When we walked in to H&M, the men went one way, my Mom and I went another. Not too long after that, my husband and our 5 year old came back over to me and said they were going outside.



"Where's Zack?" I asked



"I guess he's with your Dad", he said.



"You GUESS?", I asked.


"Well he was with us!" he said sarcastically.



I guess this was good enough of an answer for me, because I didn't pursue it further. But really, why would I? My husband is a good father, and I trust him.



Not too long after, my dad sent my mom a message to let her know he was off to find a bathroom. About 5 minutes after that, I started to wonder where they were. We hadn't heard from them at all. I text my father-- Is zack with you



No answer.



I took a quick walk over to the men's section. No Zachary. No Dad. Starting to get a little annoyed, I call my Dad.



No answer.



I text my husband -- Can't find zack


No answer.




FUCK.



In the back of my mind I knew that Zachary was probably with my father. But you know, what? He's 8. Probably isn't enough. Its just not enough.



I did another quick run through the store, calling his name. At the same time, I was calling my husband's cell.


No answer.



I found a sales associate and said, quickly and urgently.



"I may be missing a kid. He might be with my father, but I just don't know. He's not answering his cell and I just don't know. He's wearing a bright orange shirt with adidas on it and denim shorts. He's got dark hair in a brush cut"




Just saying those words---that he was missing, that I didn't know where he was, having to describe his clothing---made my blood run cold.


To my relief, the sales associate acted quickly. She asked all staff to listen to their radios, but to turn down the sound. She explained what was happening and posted herself at the entrance/exit so that Zachary couldn't leave. This was great, because I wanted to be there,and running through the store, and running through the Heartland Town Centre all at the same time.



I kept walking through the store, quickly, urgently, calling my son's name. This continued for close to another 10 minutes when my mom called my name.



"I've got Dad on the phone. He's got Zack. He's got Zack"



Relief. Pure relief. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I still didn't know where he was, but at least I knew who he was with. I knew.



I let the sales associate know that we had found him, that he was safe. Everything was okay.


It was all so simple. My dad decided to go look at some other stores and took Zack with him. He just didn't let me know, that they were together. (and boy, did I let him hear about that!) In fact, they were all together. No one heard their phones.



But at least, if we hadn't found him soon, when we would have made that call to the police. We would have had this picture.


The picture with the little 8 year old boy in the bright orange shirt and the denimn shorts with dark hair, in a brush cut.



So people can tell me that its paranoid to take a picture of my kids when we go out to unfamiliar or crowded areas. If it means I am paranoid, I don't want to be anything else.


Jessica