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The next thing I knew, we were all gathered together when my husband came out of the bathroom and seemed very upset. Where’s Ted? He asked. Where’s Ted? I must have heard the words but not placed any great importance on them because of course Ted was here, if not with me then with the grandparents. I wasn’t the only one. None of our group understood the question, or reacted. (Years later, my husband is still amazed by this.) The next thing we knew, my husband walked off.

Idly, I watched him at the other end of the visitor center, holding Ted, talking animatedly with a couple. He has Ted, I noted. I didn’t know we knew them, I thought. Idiotically.

That couple, whoever they were, had found Ted outside the visitor center, stepping into the parking lot, and had brought him back into the building. They could not believe that his parents had let him do that, and they were giving my husband hell, which of course, should have been all mine, since my husband excused himself to go to the bathroom, and that is when I wandered off to the information desk and didn’t notice our beautiful son disappear.

Each time I return to the visitor center, I look at the glass door that my 1-year-old baby had to have gotten through to get to the parking lot, and I swear that although, stupidly, I let him out of my sight, he could not have opened that door by himself, and therefore he had to have walked through, unaccompanied, with someone else -- who either didn’t notice or assumed he belonged to another nearby adult.

I wonder what Ted did on the other side of the door, if the couple scooped him up right away, or if he hesitated, pacing on the sidewalk... or did he think he was following one of us into the parking lot? And how far into the lot did he go? It is a cul-de-sac, but it is a parking lot. I’ve always assumed it was one step, maybe two. At least I hope it was. Did he say his favorite line, "Wush-dat?" Was he terrified? Is that when they noticed him? Did he cry?

Ever since then, I have been extremely watchful of young children who seem to be alone, especially when they’re walking out of buildings. Sometimes I have even stood in front of them, waiting for their parents catch up before I let them pass through.

Why am I blogging about this? As a cautionary tale, I guess. I’m generally vigilant -- my in-laws enjoy making fun of me for being paranoid. But I let Ted go missing, if ever so briefly, so I know it can happen. And I think it’s more likely to happen if you’re out, not only in a crowd, but with a crowd -- because when there are too many adults, everyone assumes that everyone else is watching.