the escalator

Before my mom had my older brother, her first child, she had nightmares about all the ways she would fail as a parent. She says she thinks she was an overly nervous first-time mom, but I think being overly nervous as a first-time parent is probably more common than she realized at the time. Anyway, one of her recurring nightmares before my brother was born was that they would be on an escalator and he wouldn't get off fast enough and his shoelaces would get stuck and eventually the escalator would chew him to bits, like escalators are giant monsters that wait for dawdling toddlers with inattentive parents and then eat them alive if given the opportunity. How silly.

Today I took Will to the Macy's Home Store to check out a couch for my sister-in-law. (She lives in Idaho, and apparently Macy's is prejudiced against potato makers and don't let you see the cool couches in person.) Will helped me assess the awesomeness of the couch ("Tell Aunt Miranda this one is comfy. It would be good for naps.") and then we got on the escalator to head out. I had my phone in one hand and somehow lost hold of Will's other hand and then he slipped.

As he tumbled and cried out, "MOMMY!" I could see not his entire life flashing before his eyes, but my mom's nightmare coming to life. I tried to put my phone in my purse but it felt like I was moving through molasses, and while I worked on pushing my hand through the invisible barrier to my purse, I tried to prop Will up with my foot. He was a trooper, and kept a hold of my foot with one hand while he made a valiant effort to stand up again by bracing himself against the side of the escalator. But you know, the thing about escalator walls is that they don't move along with the stairs. Jerk walls. So every time he stuck his hand out to balance himself he just knocked himself down another step.

As I fumbled to pick him up I kept glancing to see how close we were to the top of the escalator, how soon we would reach the hungry jaws of the monster, waiting to eat my poor two-year-old whose mother failed to keep hold of his hand for the twenty seconds it takes to get up the freaking escalator. Then finally he was in my arms and the world moved at a normal pace again. Not that I actually thought the escalator would eat him. But if he didn't stand up fast enough, I was concerned that his pantleg would get stuck at the top.

The entire incident couldn't have lasted more than five seconds, but it felt like we were moving in slow motion. I was also sure that every last person in the store could see I carried Will out of the store, though he wasn't crying by the time we got to the top of the escalator, and I was sure that every last person was staring at me, judging the incompetent mother failing to grab her poor toddler as he fell, struggling to put her phone in her purse before bending to grab him (why is it taking her so long to put her phone in her purse? what is WRONG with her?), lamely trying to lift him with her foot (though what if they thought I was trying to kick him?!) before she finally bent to snatch him from the jaws of the escalator monster.

Will is rather unflappable. He talked about the owies on his chin and arm (a couple tiny scrapes) until we got home, but then he was only interested in eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I had to coax the story out of him for Lorne. And instead of seeing me as the one who failed him by not holding his hand the whole time, he told Lorne, "Mommy got me and picked me up so I didn't fall down to the bottom!"