>The Unconcerned Parent

Punky has finally reached an age at which the classes she attends allow parents to drop off their children and return at the end of class to pick them up.

I haven’t actually left the premises of any of Punky’s classes yet, but I’m not opposed to doing so. Most parents, though, do leave, and return in plenty of time to be waiting for their child when he or she comes through the class door. After all, these are four and five-year-olds we’re talking about, and they don’t take kindly to mommy turning up missing at the end of class.

The other day at Punky’s acting class, though, you guessed it: a mommy turned up missing.

She was an acquaintance of mine and her son and Punky get along well, so I told the teacher I would watch him until his mother arrived. I figured she was simply running a few minutes late.

The teacher left, and so did the other parents and children, and I sat down and watched my children play with the little boy. And I waited. And I waited.

And I waited.

“My mommy always runs late,” the boy informed me at one point.

“Hmmm,” I mumbled darkly.

I had been waiting at that point for twenty minutes and was starting to believe something was seriously wrong. I wasn’t quite sure of what to do. I didn’t have the woman’s phone number. Would I take the boy home with me and try to call her home from there? Would she arrive at the center and think her son had been kidnapped? It was all so complicated!

Twenty-five minutes later, his mother showed up. She didn’t really even have an excuse for being late.

I was floored! Flabbergasted! The classes are at a community center, so it wasn’t like the teacher would be there all day. She comes in for the class, and then she leaves. What would have happened, I wondered, if I hadn’t noticed that the boy’s mother wasn’t there? What would have happened if the teacher hadn’t noticed? What would have happened to this poor five-year-old kid?

It astounds me when things like this happen. I can’t even imagine the anxiety I’d be suffering if I were 25 minutes late in picking up Punky from a public building. I would have been frantic, beside myself, and probably in tears.

And this woman was totally unconcerned. When she pulled up, she was chatting on her cell phone, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I just. Don’t. Get it. I run into parents from time to time who just don’t seem to take seriously the fact that they have small children.

And that, I will never understand.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.