While watching the silver mushroom of a mylar balloon scream across the sky like some sort of flimsy space capsule, I thought to myself, if we all find out that kid is safe at home with his grandmother, I'll freakin' scream.
Just the lilt of the trajectory caused even the most novice of space geeks to figure the craft was nothing more than a kite pulled free.
Well, as the story played out, I got the home part right. And the boy was safe, that's what really mattered. My aggravation stems from a couple of kids who went missing recently in my neck of the woods, both on the very same day.
Guess where both turned up?
You got it. Each had been picked up by a grandparent who--for God knows what reason--didn't bother to communicate such with the parents.
And guess what kicks in when a kid goes missing and your family member's name is listed on a very special dance card?
Procedures.
Two very efficient police officers show up on your front doorstep. The pounding on the door is followed by a flashlight beaming through the front window.
After opening the door, both inquire after your loved one and ask they step outside.
When did you arrive home from work? Been driving around since? Who's that who answered the door? Can she verify the time you arrived home? Mind asking her to step outside?
Is there a problem, officer?
No ma'am, just like to ask what time your family member arrived home?
(We don't punch a time clock here flashed through my brain, but these guys, well, they appeared two moves from cuffing somebody and dragging them off to jail, thus ensuring that your mug shot will hit the online local and any semblance of life managed to be salvaged after the first (and only) tango with the law is totally--and quite possibly--forever screwed).
I gave my answer and got the look. You know, the we-are-sizing-up-if-you-are-telling-a-bald-face-lie look. Or could've been both were checking out my Martin Kiar red campaign tee-shirt, which in retrospect, was sort of like waving a crimson cape in front of two extremely testy bulls.
My answer proved acceptable. With a nod, they head off.
I couldn't resist. Sure there isn't a problem?
No ma'am. Have a nice evening.
Maybe one night, I'll do just that.
Until then, back into the shadows, waiting for the next knock on the front door because some family somewhere didn't bother to pick up a cell phone to confirm child care arrangements.
