You know that woman who is running around and frantically screaming her kid’s name? That was me.
We went to the Cahoon Hollow beach on the way out of Cape Cod.
The small dirt parking area and port-o-potties were at the edge of a drop-off, with a steep walk down to a well-populated beach.
We were going to leave the area earlier but the sun broke through for the first time so we thought we’d take advantage of the warmth.
Oh the irony, the only hot and sunny day we have and the boys refuse to go in the very same Atlantic ocean they couldn’t get enough of when it was cold and overcast.
Loony tried his best to force the boys to have a good time.
After an inordinate amount of crying and whining about how cold the shark-infested waters were, Testiclese announced that he had to pee.
I pointed him at the path, making sure to orient him so he could find his way back (close to the lifeguard tower) and watched him ascend the path.
Loony kept an eye on the path for his return but after a few minutes I thought I should check on him. He wasn’t in any of the three port-o-potties.
I went to the edge and jumped up and down and waved until I caught Loony’s eye and mimed that I couldn’t find Testy.
Loony ran up to meet me and we started combing the area. He insisted that he didn’t take his eyes off the path and there was no way Testy was on the beach. I scanned the beach for his blue swim shirt and came up empty.
At this point I was trying to soothe myself with statistics about how unlikely it would be for him to be abducted.
I know he couldn’t have gone in the water because we couldn’t force him to go in earlier, but I could feel my chest closing up.
This was a bad time to have a panic attack (I had one once when he was a toddler and I couldn’t find him) so I was trying hard to not get hysterical.
The parking attendant walkie-talkied the lifeguards and one met me on my way back to the beach. He drove me up and down the beach on his ATV and I could see the look of worry in the eyes of everyone I passed.
We finally found him, lost and confused, but not far from where we were camped out on the beach.
I knew that he was scared and confused. He didn’t wander off to freak me out, he simply couldn’t find me and I didn’t want to compound his fear with my parental terror. My urge was to shake him by the shoulders and yell, “DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”
But I didn’t, a rare parenting win.
Instead I held him as tightly as I could and kissed him over and over again.
We packed up shortly thereafter and had lunch at the top of the dunes.
Now we’re off to Maine and I mean it.
On an unrelated note, I’d like a little clarification. I thought P-Town was Providence, Rhode Island. Are there two P-Towns? What do they call Providence, RI? I’m so confused. Are they both LGBT meccas? Why do so many places on the east coast have the same name?
And Jefé, I see what you mean about the lifeguards. They are really, um, in shape, nothing like our crazy housemate.