One of the most over-used terms in the news media is, “A parent’s worst nightmare”.
It’s annoying because the situation the reporter is describing is usually not a parent’s worst nightmare but something pretty bad. Bad, yes. Worst nightmare, no.
I won’t disturb readers by giving examples of “worst nightmares”, but you get what I mean.
Some years ago my wife, Sonia, and I went for a weekend break to the Coral Sea Resort in Airlea Beach and left our then-four-year-old daughter with my wife’s parents in South Mackay.
On our first evening away we experienced what news reporters would refer to as a “parent’s worst nightmare”.
We were relaxing in a water-front section of the resort and, around 5.30pm, rang my wife’s parents to check on how they were going with our daughter, Bianca.
My wife rang and I was sitting next to her, only hearing her end of the conversation.
After the initial “Hi mum, how are you etc”, my wife said “How’s Bianca?”
I couldn’t hear her mum’s reply but Sonia said: “You can’t find her?”
We exchanged fairly intense glances and I said “put her on speaker”. I discovered that the challenge in these situations is not to scream at your mother-in-law: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FIND HER?!!
We tried to stay calm and asked how long since they had seen her and she said it was about 15 minutes. They had a two-storey house and it would not be unusual for Bianca to be playing downstairs and out of sight for a short time.
The concerning thing was that Sonia’s parents had called out for her and gone looking but there was no sign of her.
Sonia’s mum said her dad was looking for her and we suggested she join him, call out, go past the neighbours etc but we said we will be calling back in exactly 15 minutes and please make sure you are ready for our call.
Several of the worst minutes of my life passed extremely slowly as my wife and I ran through the possible scenarios, all optimistic and none of them contemplating the unthinkable.
In about 10 minutes Sonia’s mum rang and said, “We’ve found her.”
Rarely does your state of mind go from one extreme (anxiety, deepest fears) to another (relief, joy, a celebration of all that is good in the world) in a space of a few seconds.
It turned out that Bianca had wandered next door to see people who had been long-time friends and supporting, friendly neighbours of my wife’s parents.
They offered her a drink and a biscuit and they had a nice little chat while my wife and I were quietly, desperately going out of our minds for about 10 minutes.
The irony, of course, was that the reason Bianca had disappeared for that short period was because her grandparents lived in a friendly neighbourhood where everyone knew and looked out for each other.
Bianca felt welcome and comfortable wandering over to the neighbours’ house and they were delighted to see her and have a chat.
It’s great to live in a suburb you love, with nearby neighbours you know and can rely on. It’s the terrific thing about buying a house, putting down roots, getting to know others in the street and knowing that everyone can identify who belongs and who doesn’t.
There is a natural crime-prevention antennae and a sense of community and safety that makes you feel at home.
The down-side is that when your kids are confident and adventurous and are feeling the neighbourly love, you can find yourself experiencing a “parent’s worst nightmare”.
