 This story starts in a narrow hallway, complete with 37 year old Mama, 5 year old daughter, and 2 bags. Kid survival kit* and Library bag**. Mom radar was on high alert. 3-year old son was in the public library bathroom so I stood guard. We were accustomed to free local adventures like this. Being that I worked only extremely part time and Dad was in graduate school, budget was TIGHT. Good news is, I believe tight budgets breed adventure. And so it was. Walking to the library, exploring fresh titles, treasure hunting for familiar DVDs, and playing with the puppets there was fun already. But today my daughter noticed the pay phone. She touched it with one little finger, looking up at me with mini-defiance, as if she dared me to forbid it. No forbidding here, just opportunity (my childhood imagination was very active inside of parenting!) The shiny squares with black engraved numerals beckoned. I whispered, “Hey you’ve never tried a payphone before. You should pretend to call someone…” So she picked up the black receiver and put it to her ear. "Mmmmmmmm" went the dial tone. “click clack went her strong but dainty 4-year-old fingertips--At that very moment--my son emerged from the bathroom. His round toddler palms turned upward to show me he had washed his hands. How sweet. Per our little ritual, I leaned in to make a show of sniffing for clean-hands-scent. There it was; Eau-de-antiseptic public restroom soap. “Clean hands!” I proclaimed. While he worked on getting his jacket back on for the walk back home, the dial tone behind us stopped. A voice began pleading out of the payphone receiver in my daughter’s hand, “What is your emergency? Are you ok? 9 1 1, what is your emergency?”. This was one of those slow motion moments – sprinkled with surprise and embarrassment. My daughter’s eyes looked like she had seen a ghost! “Oh no!” she whimpered, "I didn’t think they would answer!” (Honestly, neither did her Momma) Nonetheless, Momma KICKED INTO problem solving mode. No time to waste. Precious characters to mold!!!. “It was my idea. You are not in trouble. I bet they won’t come. But we need to tell the truth. We must go tell the librarian.” My son was getting hot and anxious to get going, so we scuttled quickly. We were a well-oiled trio, sticking together to flow in public. Dressed in thrift store outfits and Target brand jackets, we returned to the check-out counter. I tried to show them good manners in action. “Excuse me, I take responsibility for this, but we have to admit, we accidentally dialed 9 1 1 on the payphone and someone answered. How can I make this right?” The lady standing there, who had just loaned us a pile of tantalizing materials, gave a glare. But she spoke with calm control. “I will call.” This public servant lifted the receiver of her grey business phone and we waited. “Oh, I see,” she sighed. Then she turned to us and explained, “They said they have to dispatch anytime someone calls, so they were heading over here, but they said thanks for letting them know. They will turn back now.” Distant sirens emerged in my ears for a moment. (I can’t confirm if the sound was real or imagined, but this sound is part of the story.) It felt like eyes were judging us from behind, but that may have been fabricated. My daughter hung her head, a sensitive spirit coated by a tough opinionated exterior. My son tugged at my hand, ready to move on. I wanted to demonstrate confidence despite mistakes. So... Head held high, we traipsed out the back exit. Once outdoors, I took a healthy gulp of fresh air. We walked along the cracked sidewalk, and over the creek bridge. We paused to watch the water carrying sticks downstream. We checked to make sure the grocery cart was still there, lodged in the muddy bank under a log. A breeze streaming through leafless fall trees got us chilly, so we continued. As we floated along, I felt proud. Among the rules and routines of simple life, living in this small city so from family, being the only sibling in my family to be raising kids, we had managed to weave a new tale. By accident, and not something I’d repeat. A “just us” little tale. We laugh every time we tell it. And, yes, all this for zero dollars! KID SIZED FUN ROCKS! *Kid survival kit typically contained Twizzlers, pull up, wipes, sugar-free Kool-Aid, sippy cup, and favorite stuffed animal. ** Library bag typically contained library card, wipes, return items on the way there, newly borrowed items on the way back. Lynn Jodeit Ouellette copyright 2025. Photo pixabay free to use | ___Says it better than I can. |
