Losing track of a child doesn’t make you a granny gone bad

Here are two truisms of life.

Accidents will happen.

Bad things happen to good people.

Numerous times during my time here at the News Journal, I’ve done stories very similar to one that appears in this week’s edition of the newspaper – the story of a local woman whose two-year-old grandson got out of the house while she slept and was found in the middle of a busy roadway.

My daughter has helped me to view the accidents of parenting a little differently.

Ten years ago (or even maybe two) I would have condemned this as horribly irresponsible caretaking/parenting of the worst degree. “How could you allow this small, innocent child to escape your awareness long enough for him to be walking the centerline of Cumberland Falls Highway?”

I probably would have asked this, right here in this space, full of righteous indignation. I would have thundered and bellowed with the rest of the mob that swift and certain law enforcement action should be taken.

I don’t think this way any more.

Why?

Three words – Rachel Grace Knuckles.

I don’t write about her often because I never did much like columnists that carried on all the time about their children. However, she is pertinent to this story, so I’ve also included a picture of her merely to illustrate my point and not because I’m the proudest father in the world or anything like that.

At any rate, back to those truisms. Rachel Grace has taught me that accidents DO happen; often in fact, regardless of how mindful my wife and I are of her. On any given day, I’m fearful that workers at Rachel’s day care are going to turn me in for abuse because it is common for her to be covered with bruises, cuts and pump knots. A rambunctious 20-month old can turn a house inside out and upside down in no time, and usually suffers a number of nasty falls, bumps and bangs in the process.

There have been times, in my own home, that I have lost track of her. Frantically, I will soon find her hidden behind a door or splashing around in the toilet water or breaking into the refrigerator like a cat burglar, little hands laid guiltily on a gallon of milk.

One of the things they don’t tell you about parenthood is the lack of sleep you will endure when you have a child. That, to me, is the hardest part. Getting a full eight hours of sleep is rare, and when it comes it is precious. You take your moments of rest when you can. Everything about your life is thrown off schedule.

So I can easily understand how some parents let their toddlers get away from them in a store. Those little buggers are FAST!

I can see how a person would think a child is safely confined to a playpen or crib one moment, only to have them escape and be dodging traffic the next.

The whole thing about parents who accidentally leave their children in the car … it is shocking, but does not surprise me. These people may love their children more than anything in the world, but I know what it is like to be off my game and my life in total disarray in a way I didn’t understand a few years ago.

I can relate.

The grandmother in this week’s story has been charged with first-degree wanton endangerment for her transgression. It is a felony, which means if she is convicted there’s a lot of things she will be prohibited from doing, like voting. According to Kentucky law, a person is guilty of this offense if “under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life, he/she wantonly engages in conduct which creates a substantial danger of death or serious physical injury to another.”

I will not second-guess the police officer that filed the charge against this woman. He knows the case better than I. But it does worry me that there seems to be a trend toward treating otherwise loving and responsible parents (or grandparents) just like our worst thieves or drug dealers because they made a fleeting error.

Rachel Grace has taught me the humbling lesson that I’m no better a parent than some of those I used to harshly judge. If she gets out of my sight once, I’d hate to think I’d end up in prison for it.