“Ali Martell! Is there an Ali Martell here?”

I stopped what I was doing, searching frantically up and down the aisles. I ran to the customer service desk, and there she was, perched atop the counter, sucking on a cherry flavored lollipop, happy. Clam-like happy. I thanked the red-shirted saviors and grabbed her and the Rice Krispie treat ingredient filled basket she was toting, paid, and left the store, not letting go of her chubby little hand.

It all started innocently enough. A project, if you will. Rice Krispie treats. A no-bake dessert, but it was also a craft. It was something to keep those hands busy between camp and dinner, the hours during the day that I would normally fill with lots of “go and play outside”s, but with the temperatures in the high 90s this week, I figure that some indoor activity would be better. Also, I kind of love RKtreats more than humans probably should and have had a hankering for them for weeks now. Selfish, yes, but the kids didn’t realize because, hello deliciousness!

We stopped at Target; it was no different than any other day. Today, however, we were focused. Ingredients and that was all. Emily tried to convince me that she needed an outfit for her band performance and Josh whined about some sort of toy he absolutely needed to have, and don’t think I didn’t want to make a detour past the swimsuit cover-up section, but no, today was all business. I didn’t even take a cart and opted for a basket instead. I was going to – for the very first time ever – make it in and out of Target only buying the few things on my list. A miracle!

Isabella, of course, insisted on carrying the basket, even though once I had filled it with ingredients (plus an extra box of brownie mix that was on sale. WHAT? It was on sale, you guys) it was far too heavy for her to be hauling. And yet. She kept stopping and switching hands. She tried using both hands. She tried carrying it like a purse. And yet. I couldn’t pry the thing from her stubborn hands. So, we kept walking. And when I got to the check-out line, I turned around to grab the basket, but….

….no Isabella. No basket.

She was nowhere. So, naturally, my Mother Bear instincts kicked in. I went back and retraced our steps, looking for a little curly blond head and a big red basket. Nothing. I went to the toy section, the candy section, the little girl dress section. Nothing. No Isabella. No basket. Suddenly this wave of nausea flashed over me and I was in an episode of Without A Trace or some other stupid show that I cannot watch because stories of disappearing children make my everything hurt and since becoming a parernt, I have had many a  Lindbergh baby nightmare, although sometimes these become a mash-up of  the Lindbergh baby and that baby in Raising Arizona and someone always ends up saying, “Son, you got a panty on your head.”

No Isabella. No basket.

“Ali Martell! Is there an Ali Martell here?”

And there she was, perched atop the counter, sucking on a cherry flavored lollipop, happy. Clam-like happy. I thanked the red-shirted saviors and grabbed her and the Rice Krispie treat ingredient filled basket she was toting, paid, and left the store, not letting go of her chubby little hand.

When we were safely in the car, I said, “Boots, what happened?? You were right behind me! I am sooo sooo soooo very sorry.”

She stopping sucking on her lollipop and said, “Well, you were right. That basket WAS too heavy for me to carry around. So, I got really tired…and I just…sat down on the floor to take a rest. And then I didn’t see you anymore and this Target lady came over and asked me if I wanted to find my mama.”

“Were you scared?”

“Of course not, duh, and I knew that the Target lady had a microphone and could find you.”

“Well, I was very scared. I was scared that some strange person was going to take you away from me.”

“That’s silly, Mama. Don’t you know about DANGER STRANGER? That’s what you are supposed to say to strangers…don’t you know anything?”

“Well, that makes me very happy.”

“Plus also, I am so VERY NOISY AND I CAN SCREAM SO SUPER LOUD. No one would want to take me home with them.”

God, I hope so. I hope she never stops screaming.  And that she never wants to carry that stupid basket again. My heart can’t take it.