Lost and found By Wyn Evans
Friday December 23rd 2016 started inauspiciously and then got worse. I was due to take The Girl (my 10 year old daughter who happens to have Down Syndrome - DS) to what would be the last in a seemingly never-ending procession of Christmas events; school parties, activity-based parties, parties with yet another 'ho-ho-hoing' Santa sucking desperately on breath mints so as not to offend the olfactory sensibilities of our little terrors. Well, you get the gist. This was my morning...
The two of us had spent the week shopping and wrapping presents for family and friends. Somehow, we had cleared our 'to do' list of necessary tasks and had a clean run-in to Christmas Day. We would attend that afternoon's party, at Newport Leisure Centre, hosted by the local Branch of the South Wales DS Association. Saturday would see The Girl doing some last minute things with her mum, The Boss, whilst I would tune in to the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge, on Radio 4 (the official start of xmas in our house). And then Christmas Day itself, which would be the first spent in our own home as a threesome. Well it's nice to have a plan, isn't it?
By mid-morning we had packed our two dogs into the back of my little Volvo estate and set-off for the kennels. Then I realised that the cleaner was due to come and that I hadn't left the keys in our 'secret hiding place' for her to be able to get in. I turned the car around, parked, ran into the house, collected the spare key, and hid it where no-one but the cleaner would find it. Losing more precious minutes I then texted her to say I'd be out when
she arrived. As I was turning the car around again The Girl helpfully reminded me to "hurry dad or the kennels will be shut". Muttering about telling me something I didn't already know I thanked her. We got to the kennels minutes before they closed. One of the dogs had been sick on the mat - which I had to clean-up before leaving for home. These and other cumulative delays meant I would not have time for a shower before we had to set off for the lunch-time party in Newport, leaving me feeling out of sorts and with a headache coming on.
Regular readers will know that The Boss and I keep our external doors locked and the house keys out of The Girl's reach. (She has been known to go exploring, once ending up making herself comfy in the bedroom of a house three doors down and once, having exited via the garage, was found marching with her friend through the back alleys of Penylan.) I was on the toilet when the cleaner left so I couldn't lock the front door behind her. My daughter had already put her coat on to go to the party in Newport. By time I got downstairs - which was really no time at all - The Girl was in the passenger seat waving at me and the engine was running.
Every decision we make as parents is about risk management. I always park in neutral just in case, in gear, it jumps forward when I hit the ignition. I'm overly cautious but The Girl could have hurt herself or someone else. Or someone could have seen the car with its engine running and no driver and stolen it with her in. All because of the conjunction of events that left me upstairs for a couple of minutes, The Girl alone downstairs with an unlocked front
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