We went out and did something tonight. It wasn’t exactly like we did it all by ourselves, but we did it anyway. Some friends called and said they’d be at this concert down at Wingfield Park, which is surrounded by the river, and they were bringing kids, so we packed our asses and went. It was cool, and there was beer, but then the boy was nowhere to be found. I went looking to check up on him, and couldn’t find him. I looked all around the park, and couldn’t figure it out. He doesn’t do tis type of thing, like where he goes away like some kids do. So I wasn’t too worried, but then I went back to our spot and told Christy that I couldn’t find him.
So we both went out looking. we each made a lap around the park looking, but no dice. Then we split up and kept looking. Bad idea. I knew Christy would not do well in looking, but I forged ahead, knowing he had to be around. When I crossed a street, I got a look under a bridge that had a small, but secluded shore. there he was, actually right in the same area he said he’d be. But when I got his attention, and we went to tell Christy he was okay, we couldn’t find her. So I took him back to where we had been sitting, and our frineds told me she was about to make an announcement on the stage. I started heading that way, and ran into a fireman, who happened to be lookng like he was looking for someone, so I stopped him. I told hm I was the lost kid’s dad and I’d found him, so he immediately headed to the stage to get Christy. But he didn’t make it.
She was up there and the most likely stoned blues lead guy was announcing that the boy was lost when the fireman got there. At least the crowd cheered Christy as she was led to her son. He was cool about it, simply because he never did anything wrong, as far as he was concerned. He was right where he said he’d be, just a bit obscured. So, crisis averted.
Then came the end of the show, where the people leave, but the park actually stays lively. That’s when kids freak the hell out, right. First, there is the leapfrog game, where four and eight year olds who normally fight like there isno tomorrow actually get along like they are some sort of friends, or at least they can stand each other. But the leapfrog game tends to go far longer than anyone really wants it to, but that’s sort of the price of being a parent. Anyway, we’re home, and the boy is safe, and Ed is still acting all sympathetic toward his wife when I know he really wanted to be there tonight. maybe next weekend. Wait, next weekend is the Graeagle Tri, so I’ll be in serious mode.