FanStory.com - Too hard!by Wendy G

My heart rate was increasing. I could hear the pounding in my head.

Urgently I called her name. Over and over again.

How could I lose her? I was gone for only a couple of minutes.

Once again I ran through the house, calling.

Although she was three, she was almost non-verbal. Nevertheless she understood everything, even quite complex sentences.

She was always excited to see me on our special days together, and we had such fun, but every time I encouraged her to speak, she would simply say "Too hard!" She spoke only those two words. "Too hard!"

Usually she came running when I called her name. I would sweep her into my arms and she'd throw her chubby little arms around my neck. It was our little game.

But today my imagination went into over-drive. I looked under beds, in the laundry basket, behind the lounge chairs, into every nook and cranny. I threw open wardrobe and cupboard doors in case she had closed herself inside.

No response. No chubby little arms held out towards me. No running steps.

In a panic I raced outside, searching frantically around the back and both sides of the yard, checking under trees and shrubs.

Could she be behind the shed? There was just sufficient room for a small child to fit – but not enough room for me to reach her. There were spiders, perhaps poisonous ones sheltering in the dark spaces . . . . I could not see her. Had she been bitten? Was she unconscious, stuck in a small gap?

Calling, calling. No answer. No cries of joy with wide open arms. I was panicking.

What could I say to my son, her father? How could this happen?

I had a sudden horrid thought. My husband had gone out – through the front door, normally kept locked. I checked. It was unlocked! How could he have been so careless? Anyone could have entered the house!

Panic-stricken, I realised what had happened. A passer-by had slipped in and snatched her. My breathing was becoming ragged.

Should I phone my son first, or the police?

Gasping sobs were choking me as I called her name one more time. One more check.

I entered the study, where I'd already looked several times. Why did my husband always carelessly leave his chair out, instead of tucked under his desk? Exasperated, I slid it back into place.

Then I saw . . . tiny toes, peeking out from behind the curtain!

I gasped, flung the curtain aside. There she was!

She'd initiated a game of "Hide and Seek", and rearranged his chair herself in front of the curtain, so she could hide really well!

"Were you playing 'Hide and Seek', my sweetie?" I queried weakly.

She nodded solemnly, holding out her chubby little arms. I hugged her tightly, laughing with relief.

How many three-year-olds can stay absolutely still and quiet for half an hour? Usually that's just . . . too hard!