When I was a teenager, there was a horrible magazine called "True Confessions." I only saw it once or twice at friends' houses but I suspect that it fulfilled the same function for my generation that Jerry Springer does for some in this generation. So, imagine my surprise at being told by a co-worker that one of the most valuable things I do for her in supporting her parenting skills is my "true confessions��although I later discovered that, being quite a few years younger, she had no memory of the magazine. Nevertheless, for this co-worker, here is my true confession: I once handed my baby to a total stranger and left.

It all happened years ago. That November, Kat was four and Day was 20 months old. It had been cold and gray for days and days, the way it can be in the Midwest in November. It was afternoon and Day was full of energy. (Day had given up naps at 13 months and it made the afternoons stretch on forever.) Something had to happen. Something had to give or insanity was going to get the better of me. So I suggested that we go to the mall to look at Christmas decorations. Day, although too young to understand much other than �mall� and �go,� was all in favor of the idea. Kat also thought it would be fun. So I buckled the kids into their carseats and off we went.

I did not bring a stroller. I know that this omission might seem odd but Day was a hiker. She hated strollers and she had been walking for more than a year. She already had hiked the entire zoo on multiple occasions. She saw no reason to ride when she could walk�and she was fast. Kat, on the other hand, saw no particular reason to walk if she could ride. But Kat was tall and, while somewhat slender, she still was heavy for me to push. (I am under five feet myself so the height all comes from Mr. Philately.) Bringing a stroller so I could push my four year old who was perfectly capable of walking seemed silly. So I did not bring it.

For a while, we were all doing fine. Day was happily striding along. Kat complained about her feet from time to time but was too entranced by the decorations to really whine. We stopped and got a snack and then headed down towards Sears. And there it happened. We walked past a giant box�and out jumped large jack-in-the-box with a clown face. Day giggled with delight but Kat, well, Kat totally and completely panicked. She was afraid of clowns to begin with and hated being startled. Kat was there and Kat was gone�both emotionally and physically.

As she began to run in panic, I tried to reach her but she was too fast. I called to her but there was no �there� there and no one to reach. I moved to scoop up Day because her little legs would never keep up and suddenly realized that, with the adrenaline flowing through Kat�s body, I could not catch her while holding Day. A grandmotherly woman standing nearby saw what was going on and came forward. �I�ll watch the baby,� she said. I made a split-second decision. I did not know the woman but she seemed trustworthy. Kat was almost out of sight and way ahead, dashing madly and panicked. I did not know whether she might get to the mall door and, in her panic, head out. I did not know who she would encounter.

I gulped and gave Day to the woman without even asking her name. �Thanks,� I muttered and took off after Kat. It was not easy to catch her. I ran for quite a few store, grateful that her hair was then almost white and stood out fairly well. I eventually stopped her with a modified flying tackle. She was so far gone that all I could do for a few minutes was restrain her and make soothing noises. When she came to enough that she knew it was me and she knew it was okay, I had to convince her to go back. I picked her up, told her to close her eyes hard, and to bury her head in my shoulder, and I walked back with her.

And there was Day and the woman. Day was happy as a clam (if, in fact, clams are very happy but I do not know much about clams and have never asked one about its contentment level.) The woman saw Kat and me and headed over to us so Kat would not end up near the offending object again.

I like to think that I handed Day off to an angel and, in a way, its true. But it is truer that I handed her off to a total stranger and, faced with the same decision, I would do it again. Sometimes life presents funny options and you just have to play the odds.

And that�s my true confession for today.

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