How proud of myself I’ve been, patting my own back about my ability to temper my anxiety over the armed robber. See, I told myself, you worry for nothing. Everything turns out fine.
I found myself in the position of picking up the same boys from the same park after another soccer game yesterday. I joked with them: Any armed robbers today?
“Oh, did you hear what happened?” said one boy.
“No…” I said, shooting a look at my son. A look that would have consisted of a raised eyebrow if I were genetically disposed to make such a face.
“He didn’t tell you about the cops?” said the boy. He meaning my son.
“Oh my God, when we got to the soccer field there were police cars everywhere. There were, like, ten of them with their lights flashing on the baseball diamond.”
I knew the baseball diamond he meant. It was the one that flanked the soccer field.
“There was at least one helicopter and there were cops running toward that group of houses across the road, pulling people away from there because it wasn’t safe.”
“Flashing police cars. Helicopters. Evacuations. Anything else I should know?” I asked the teenager.
He thought for a second. “No, that’s about it.”
"With all that stuff going on, did anyone think, maybe we shouldn’t be here?"
[Insert abundant eye-rolling.]
“Mom. It was fine.”