“You would think parents would be more careful in this heat,” my husband said. Then, when he looked at my face, he declined further comment.
You see, I know exactly how it happened. It happened to me in a parking lot in Corpus Christi, Texas, in 1978.
I had taken our 9-month-old daughter Katy to her swim lessons. She couldn’t walk yet but she could crawl on her hands and toes (over rough concrete) to the edge of the pool, lower herself into the 85-degree water then doggie paddle away. I was so pleased she was “pool proof” before the age of one. Mother of the Year, I was. Keeping my baby safe.
Her Daddy was at work, which meant he was probably in that Navy T-28 flying over us. Katy, of course, acknowledged every airplane that flew over us and waved at Daddy.
Katy had a couple of toy airplanes that traveled with us everywhere, plus her own set of car keys, just like Mommy’s but made of bright plastic.
When lessons were over, I quickly grabbed Katy, her towel, and the toys up in my arms and hurried across the parking lot. It was already sweltering and the sun was heavy on my shoulders and arms. Luckily, I’d cracked all the windows so the car wasn’t too hot yet.
I got the door open and put the towel across the seat in case it was scorching. Had to be careful; car seat burns in Texas were real. Katy was chatting excitedly about the swimming, and Daddy’s airplane overhead. I snapped her in and dumped the toys into her lap. Then I shut the door.
When I got to the driver’s door I froze. I realized that I was trying to open the door with her bright plastic set of keys. Katy on the other hand was thrilled because Mommy had handed her the big wad of keys that she only got to play with at special times. She waved them at me and giggled.
Oh crap.
Immediately I went to work finding a clothes hanger. Other moms and I tried extending the straightened hanger’s hook to her and told her to put the keys on it.
“No!” She was not giving them up.
My husband was flying and could not bring his keys. It was getting warmer and the “keep away” game with the keys was growing old. Katy got grumpy and sweaty.
When the firemen arrived, they tried using a long pole to unlock a door, or to snag the keys. They tried to lower a window with the pole but this was before power windows.
Eventually, they had to bust one of the back seat windows. It would be the easiest to replace they said. “We’ve done this before,” they added.
A couple of taps with a metal rod and the back side window behind her disintegrated. They laid a padded blanket over the sharp glass in the door and seat. Then a fireman pulled her out to safety. She was crying because a stranger had grabbed her, and she was uncomfortably hot.
They said to give her water, but I was a breast feeding only mom, so I took care of her rehydration in the shade of a nearby mesquite tree.
I was a sniveling mess. There was no police report, no blame game. Everyone was just happy she was free. And yes Katy was just fine. She’s almost 46 now, has her own keys and has, I hope, forgiven me.
So how could this same thing have happened last week in Texas?
Very easily. Easier than I want to admit.
It just takes some innocent distractions and a slip up. Luckily the Texas father got the baby out quickly, and she didn’t have cuts from the glass.
I had a hidden key after that situation. I got a push-button combination lock on the driver’s door as soon as I could.
I’m recalling this today to remind all of you perfect safety-conscious parents, grandparents, and aunties out there: you can be distracted too.
It’s too simple to say avoid distractions, but it’s logical to say plan ahead. It’s evidently still possible to lock all the doors as we saw last week.
How would you get in? Know how to solve the problem before it happens. And still try to avoid it.
How do you remind yourself if your little one is riding in the back seat? Plan ahead. Think about how you would remind your potentially distracted self. Then put your plan into action. Every. Day.
And please watch out for others who may have left a baby or a pet or grandma in the car. We are human, and we need to have each other’s backs.
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