« Deliberately vague. | Main | Update: The crash of the token economy. »

18 January 2015


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.


When I was nine, my family took a long vacation up to the northeast. We visited many places that had trains and subways. I don't remember my parents giving me any talk about what to do if we were separated--they may have but I don't remember--but what I do remember is my mother's ever-present fear that we would somehow end up on the tracks. Her fear bled over onto me and looking at the open maw of the tracks and hearing the electricity buzzing made me dizzy. Entering and exiting the train seemed fraught with bad possibilities. I hated to stand on the platform before the train arrived. It just seemed so dangerous. Sitting on the bench in the middle always seemed the better choice. By the end of the trip I fancied myself quite the cosmopolitan, but still those open tracks made me uneasy.


One of the most surprising things about motherhood is that I feel it physically when my children are in danger. I see them start to fall or do some other minorly dangerous thing and I feel a jolt of electricity pulse through my body as if I touched a live wire. It physically hurts. I did not expect that.


We are teaching our 3yo to tell people to look in her jacket if she gets lost, because her name and my mobile number are written in it. (We spend insane amounts of money on outerwear because of the appalling climate and the cultural tradition of kids playing outside year round no matter the weather - if she somehow misplaces something I hope they'll call!) I have actually used this same practice when someone else's kid got separated from his parents at the zoo - looked in the collar of his jacket and called the number with success. During summer months I put a luggage tag through the arm/neck of her tshirt if we're somewhere with a lot of people.


I like the luggage tag idea!

The comments to this entry are closed.

Screen Shot 2015-07-19 at 6.07.09 PM
My Photo

I think I read something somewhere about this

  • Google

    bearing blog


Become a Fan