We've been enjoying our re-discovery of story time at the library, now that Andrew's old enough to actually want to pay attention to the stories. Today, I sent him through the little green door as usual (the 3-4 year olds have their own story time, sans adults, in a little room off the children's library), browsed books and movies for a few minutes, and then Evelyn and I sat down for our own story time with the littler kids. Evelyn was engrossed by the singing and all the other little kids. I keep forgetting how old she's getting--she'll be one next month--and so I was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. We'll have to try that again.
Well, the younger children's story time ends first, so I started browsing books nearby, listening for the bell that signals the end of the older children's story time. I must have missed it, though, because the next thing I knew, there were little children all over the place--and no Andrew. I did a hurried look around the children's section, up and down the rows of the picture books, and still no Andrew. At this point, I started to panic a little, since I wasn't sure where he would have gone if he'd left the children's section of the library. I rushed Evelyn across the hall to the adult's section and found, thankfully, a very distraught little boy who had gone straight to the information desk and was telling the nice librarian there that he couldn't find his mommy. I felt horrible: Andrew was completely undone. He really thought he'd lost me. Apparently, losing his mother on accident is a very different proposition from losing her on purpose! (He's lost me before in the library--he slipped upstairs on the elevator once before I could catch him). But at least his instincts are good--he went right to the very place he needed to go if he was lost.
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