We were out of milk.
And besides I always take the kids up the street to the park or the store. We've been in the neighbourhood a few months now. They both like to race up the sidewalk, speeding like motorcycles, galloping like ponies, running like kids out of school.
I let them get a few lengths ahead of me. They stop when I say stop. And they are good about waiting for me to cross at pianos (ie. crosswalk).
But at the corner of Circular and Bannerman, there is no "piano". So this evening, we stood there and waited for the cars to pass.
But in a fraction of a second, Ben stepped off the curb. And in that same fraction of a second, a car whizzed by. A sound came out of my throat, guttural, squelching. He froze. I grabbed his orange t-shirt in my hand, knuckles white and yanked him back on the sidewalk, safe next to me and FG. His scared eyes and tremorring bottom lip mirrored mine.
"You ok?" I knelt on down, holding his face in my hands, stroking his blonde hair over and over.
He nodded.
"I need you to hold my hand. Please hold me hand."
We hugged tight. We crossed the street and held hands all the way to the store.
***In light of what happened to Zachary Strong's family this week, we were lucky. Please check out your neighbourhood. Hard to believe there's nothing -- not even a crosswalk -- at Bannerman, one of the city's oldest parks. I've already called my counciller. Please do the same.
In our house, Ben & FG call them the "big piano". The place where you stop look and listen, not just for your safety but alert drivers. My kids have known about "big pianos" since they could walk.
