A Tale of Blue Bear and the Almost Tragedy

It’s been a month, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be remembering March 1st for a long time.  It was the day of the “Almost Tragedy”.  It started off just like any other normal day: struggling to get Audrey ready and off to school in time, breakfast for Judah and me, getting dressed and ready to face the day.  On this particular Monday I desperately needed to restock our fridge and pantry (Matt, Audrey and I had been skiing over the weekend—perhaps a post on that to come), so Judah and I headed off to Wally World.  Judah brought along his lovey, Blue Bear, who often accompanies him to church, or anywhere he may be dropped off and separated from me.                                                                                                                Side story: Both my kids have gone through this separation anxiety thing, chalk full of kicking, screaming, crying, and fit throwing when being left in the care of completely competent and loving adults other than myself.  To reduce the stress on these other caretakers and myself, I figured out that Judah did better if he was allowed to take a stuffed animal (or really any small toy) of his choice, usually Blue Bear.  Well, kind of.  Honestly, I had to threaten him that if he cried I would just take the toy back with me.  I know, I’m a mean mommy, but in my defense, I thought it was a little ridiculous that he would get to take a toy (which we normally just don’t allow since it was discouraged—and understandably—in Audrey’s preschool last year) and still put on the same little show.  And it has worked wonderfully.  He now walks calmly into his class without even looking back.                    OK, back to the main story:  So Judah’s in the cart, holding Blue Bear, and I’m whizzing through Walmart trying to get done as fast as possible.  I’m throwing things left and right in the cart, marking things off my list, and answering Judah’s funny little questions.  At one point he dropped Blue Bear on the ground and I told him to be careful because we really didn’t want to lose him.  I check out and am feeling so good because it hadn’t taken as long as I thought it would.  I put all the bags in the back of the car, put the cart in the cart return and carry Judah back to the car.  As I’m putting him in his carseat, I realize we don’t have Blue Bear.  Transition to PANIC MODE.  I look on the ground, go back to the cart, and after not seeing him realize we have to go back inside.  Judah is a little sad, but not panicking, not even crying—I know, I could learn a lesson from him (but in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “Oh, just wait until bedtime…then you’ll be crying!!”).  The whole walk back into the store I’ve got my eyes peeled to the ground, willing them to see the soft, plump, little blue bear that Judah has had since birth.  We walk to the customer service area, but there is a line.  We wait for a little while, but then I figure it hadn’t been that long, so maybe Blue Bear is just laying in an isle somewhere, silently crying out for his beloved owner.  We retrace our trek through the store, peeking under the fruit stands, and looking down all the lonely and Blue Bear-less isles.  When I’ve retraced all our steps, we head back to the customer service desk and wait, and wait, and wait.  In reality it was probably 3 minutes, but when you’ve got an impending tragedy on hand, it seems like an eternity.  Finally it was our turn, but at this point I thought all hope was lost.  I kindly ask the lady if anyone had turned in a stuffed animal, specifically a little blue bear.  She looks at Judah sympathetically and says, “Oh, are you missing someone?”  Now I just knew; he was gone, never to be seen again.  But then, as if in slow motion, she took a few steps to the side and reached under the counter, and what she brought out from under it was the most glorious sight in all of Walmart.  As Judah shouts, “Blue Bear!” with a huge smile on his face, my best friend in the whole world, the lady behind the customer service desk, asks, “Is this who you’re looking for?”  “Oh, thank you so much!” I say in relief.   After profusely thanking her, and wiping the sweat off my brow, Judah and I head back out to the car, Blue Bear snugly tucked in the crook of his arm.  Never again will we take such a beloved piece of our lives somewhere he may get lost…that is, until the next time Judah is screaming and I need a bargaining chip to ransom my sanity.