Always Something to Worry About

My grandmother is a worrier. Always has been. I guess I know now why she's such a worrier. There's just so much that can go so wrong, especially when it comes to kids. I, however, am much much worse. I create these ridiculous "worst-case-scenarios." As a pessimist, I guess it just goes with the territory.

I see dark lights and a field next the parking lot where I was parked last night while browsing Toys R Us with Jimmy. What would happen if Jimmy bolted from his stroller and ran into this field, in the dark, no lights, no way for me to see him? Of course, I highly doubt this would happen because of his fascination with lights, so my guess is that he'd either try and climb into my car or go back into the store. I do like to take him places, though, to spend time with him, especially to get him away from the dreaded TV (getting reaaalll sick of Elmo & the Teletubbies these days). Heck one day he grabbed a container of miniature cupcakes and took off running in the grocery store. Luckily his dad was with us to grab him before he ran out of the store (yes, that is where he was heading). But I always panic about the "what ifs" of life, even not so typical things like auto accidents, going to any store or mall without being strapped into a stroller (he did pretty good last night at Toys R Us when I let him run with a mini-basketball until he ran into the back storeroom...hard to explain to him why he can't go in there).

So not only do I worry about the normal things, but I worry about the abnormal things. I have too many "Mildred Moments" as I call them. There's always something to worry about.