The Kindness of Strangers

I have lost track of Sawyer so many times now that I can no longer just laugh it off (well, not that I laughed it off before); I mean, I could usually chuckle about what he was doing once I found him, but this is just becoming downright ridiculous!

It doesn't help that Sawyer is JUST like his dad and will approach anybody and engage them in conversation. It doesn't matter if they want to talk or not--Sawyer is quite content to do all the talking! For instance, when we're at the Big Splash he is constantly swimming up to people who are minding their own business or who are playing with their own kids, and he'll just strike up a conversation. He is very charming, of course, and lots of people indulge him and will play with him for a few minutes. The other day, with two different adults, he just swam up, poked them and said, "Tag, you're it!" And do you know, they kept the game going! He can be very persuasive.

Anyway, the other night we were at the ballpark and Sawyer was dressed from head to toe in his baseball gear--never mind that the only team he's on is the one he has assembled in that big, imaginative mind of his. Tom (one of the dads I've mentioned before) thought he was being funny when he said, "Sawyer, are you going to be ready when the coach calls you in to play?" I just looked at Tom and said, "Do you realize what you've just done?! Do you know how heartbroken he's going to be when he realizes you weren't SERIOUS?!" Sure enough, a couple of minutes later Sawyer came to me and said, "Okay, so the coach will call my name and I'll get to go in the game?" Ay yi yi.

Fast forward approximately two hours. The game was over and Sawyer, when not stealing swigs from my glass of 7-UP, had been passing the time playing with the little chihuahua that belongs to Mike and Sherry (Mike is the other dad I mentioned in a previous blog); he also charmed the sister of one of Tyler's teammates into pitching his baseball to him while he practiced his batting. Once the game was over, our boys gathered their equipment together and assembled on the grass and I set to work putting the covers back on my camp chairs. I will admit that I simply assumed that Sawyer joined the team in their huddle--I never actually SAW him walk over to them. But honestly, it only took about thirty seconds for me to consciously realize that I didn't see Sawyer nearby.

And now we come to the part of the story that I have thought about over and over for the last five days. Almost before I realized it (almost, but not quite), Mike was standing there asking, "Where's Sawyer?" I responded, "I was just wondering that myself" and with that, Mike, Sherry and Mike's mom, Anna took off in three different directions in search of my son. I don't know if it's a testimony to my level head or if I'm simply an idiot and don't realize it, but I never really panicked. I mean, I was nervous because the scope of the search area was pretty large, but I guess I have grown comfortable (some might say complacent) with my kids wandering free because that's just what kids do at Windsor Park. Rarely do you see kids older than three with their parents. They just seem to gravitate to one another either at the playground or at an area right in the middle of the ball fields with two big rocks, some bushes (perfect for hide-and-seek) and a couple of footpaths. It's as though there is an unwritten rule that all kids follow (most of the time): Stay here, and stay together.

So as I say, I wasn't really AFRAID, but as I set off on foot to try to find him, I realized that he could be ANYWHERE. Did I mention Sawyer's propensity to talk to anyone--including the dreaded "strangers"??? Fortunately, Anna spotted him not one minute into our search, and guess where he was? . . . If you guessed the dugout, you win the prize! So now I'm chuckling, ha ha, ha ha, a-hem, because my camp chairs were set up right next to the dugout, which means he really hadn't wandered off at all--he was simply waiting to be called into the game! Course, there were no players on the field, but who cares?!

Here's what strikes me, though, and what I haven't been able to get out of my mind--three virtual strangers (yes, we do make small talk at the baseball games, but that's about it) literally stopped everything they were doing--without being asked--and started searching for Sawyer when they believed he was lost. I'm just not sure a lot of people in this day and age would be willing to do that. You know, the game was over, it was late, they wanted to get home and get some dinner . . . and besides, who is Sawyer to them? They could have easily said, "Oh, he'll turn up" and gone on their merry way. Anna's reaction was especially touching; she usually only comes to every other game so she hasn't even been exposed to the full measure of Sawyer's irresistible charm (!), but she told me that as soon as we started looking, she started praying. And she was visibly relieved when she caught a glimpse of his shirt as he emerged from the dugout.

Sawyer, for his part, was oblivious to the anxiety he had caused us. He was sitting there on the bench, legs swinging back and forth, helmet on, bat in hand, and when I told him I'd been looking for him (though I never once called his name, which would have saved us all a lot of time and worry), his response was one I have memorized by now: "I wanna play baseball!"