Adventures in Babysitting

Although I don’t actually remember these events occurring this is how they have been relayed to me in bits and pieces.

One summer when I was about 2, my parents asked my 9 year old brother to watch me. My brother was more interested in watching cartoons then me. I decided to look for my mom, who was working as the summer camp nurse. I exited the front and headed down the front steps. I started walking down our street – naked. Well, I had a diaper on. But being naked makes for a better story.

My journey continued down the the side of the state road until I was in front of our local elementary school. As I walked down the road looking for my mom, cars kept passing me. Finally, one gentlemen decided to stop and pick me up and figure out who I belonged to. He found the house and left me with my brother again.

The details are a little rough about whether the gentleman was a policeman or not. Somehow, social services was called. They came out to the house and discovered that there was no child abuse, after talking with my mother. There are many unanswered questions. Who was the stranger who picked me up? Was he a policeman? How did he find my house? How did I get so far down the road and not get hit by a car? Why did this person leave me with my brother AGAIN and him not even notice who he was, his face, his profession… nothing?

To this day I am convinced that gentlemen was my guardian angel and I am still alive because God was looking out for me. I live today to retell this tale and to constantly give my brother grief for neglecting me.

5 thoughts on “Adventures in Babysitting”

  1. Gosh yes, that wonderful story bring up two stories for me! Both reflect very badly on my parenting skills and both have angels looking after my little boys. My middle son went looking for me in Cumbria, aged less than three and walked to the village shop by himself from his grandfather’s house about half a mile away! My youngest, also less than three got lost in Golders Green! His angel found him trying to cross the Finchley Road, and took him to the nearest synagogue (where else would an angel go?) who contacted the police. Three quarters of an hour of pure, unadulterated shame and panic later we were reunited.

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