We seriously need walkie talkies. I can’t imagine the husband ever having, or using, a cell phone, but we’ve encountered many situations where such a device would have been helpful. I have two such examples to highlight from last evening.
Example the first: on our way to the Deerhoof show, J needed to stop by the eye institute to pick up another round of anti-rejection eye drops. Pharmacy closes at 6…he ran in around 5:30, leaving us to wait in the car. I’m all right with waiting. Usually. Better if I know how long I will be waiting, or if I have something to keep me distracted. Something, that is, other than trying to keep a hyperactive preschooler in the car. I kill some time trying to capture a decent mirror project shot of the little man and I…in one of the sideview mirrors. He finds that amusing. But then he gets bored and starts spitting water out the window. I don’t find that nearly as amusing. So almost a half hour goes by. No sign of the husband. I get antsy. I hop into the driver’s seat, moving us from the side street to the patient drop-off driveway. Even more frustrating. The windows are all reflective glass so all I could see was myself looking antsy, knowing the husband had disappeared somewhere within the labyrinthine structure before me. After an eternity (and after the pharmacy has closed) the man finally emerges, wherein I attempt to point out the need for alternate communication devices…as we have not yet honed our telepathic abilities.
Example the second: after arriving at Loring Park, our little group split up twice. Before Deerhoof played I left the boys in the playground area so that I could go stake out our spot. Not too far from the stage that we couldn’t see the band, but not too close that the little man’s eardrums would rupture. I laid out our picnic blanket and assorted goodies and waited. After a time, the boys arrived and all was good. Later, after the excellent Deerhoof set (which the little man was mostly interested in and well-behaved during…aside from hitting me in the face with a large rubber snake) I decided to stay, to hang on to our prime piece of real estate, while the boys went back to the playground. Arriving early has its advantages. Then the most wondrous thing happened. The sky turned into cotton candy. It was the best sunset I’ve seen in years. The way the pink-orange light filtered over the park was amazing. I snapped off a few photos, but they don’t even begin to do it justice. But as the sky grew darker I started to experience some acute separation anxiety. Probably based on primitive maternal instincts, but when darkness falls I need to know where my baby is. And yeah, I knew where he was. A little ways over, at the playground. But I couldn’t *see* him. If we’d had a way to communicate, J would have been hearing me loud and clear. I was coming close to ditching our spot just as the boys ambled back to me. Phew. We managed to stick it out for the beginning of Rocky…but the boy was obviously tired and unable to find a comfortable position, opting instead to repeatedly steamroll over me. And J’s back was bothering him. So we gathered our gear and walked out of the park…a complete unit, the little man holding each of us by the hand.
