Today was one of those totally empty summer days with no therapy sessions or play dates or anything.  Just me and Wyatt.  I had to fill some time, so I took Wyatt on a five-hour train ride.

There were no parking spaces left.  That's enough to make anyone feel uneasy.  A handicap placard would have been sooo nice.  But no, I had to park several blocks away.  Oh yeah, it was street cleaning day, too, so I had to park even farther away.   Well, it really wasn't a big deal on the outbound because Wyatt happily scampered to the train station.

All of the ticket machines were out of order.  That's enough to make anyone want to turn around and go home.  But the security guard said we could board the train without a ticket and that we might not have to pay.  Cool!  Save money.  OK.

I did a lot of things right, today.  I was hoping that I did everything right, actually.  We were each wearing a backpack.  It's great to make Wyatt wear a backpack because not only can I grab hold of it to control him, but it creates a counterweight so if he throws himself toward the ground he tends to land on his back rather than his front.  So he is less able to bang his forehead against the ground.  The pack also creates a cushion so that the back of his skull cannot easily connect with the ground.  (I discovered all of this today after we got off of the train).

So, backpacks are good.  Inside the backpack I had snacks, beverages, and entertainment.  I had mess-free markers with coloring book, I had various sticker books, a ball, etc.  It all worked out great. 

Until I had to go to the potty.  Wild horses couldn't drag Wyatt into the bathroom on the train.  I can hardly blame him.  I don't even like going in there.  Even though it is relatively clean, it still has a particular smell of Eau de Ewww.   So I was headed toward the potty after the announcer said, "the doors are closing."  I waited about three seconds and I thought, okay, the doors are gonna be closing.  I stood up and before I knew it, Wyatt had raced to the open door and stuck his head out of it.  I screamed, "No Wyatt, stop!" and even before I finished yelling I had whisked him away from the door.  But the conductor came along and scolded me and accused Wyatt of doing this same thing once before that morning.  I know he did NOT.  I think some other kid did, but the conductor was convinced it was my son.  Of course  The conductor told me I needed to keep a better eye on him and gave me a big lecture.  I tried to explain that HE said the doors would be closing and that they did not, and that I whisked Wyatt out of there in less than a second.  But the guy just acted like I was the worst mom on the planet.  So okay, I should have waited another 2 seconds for the doors to close, so my timing wasn't perfect, so I'm only human, so no injuries ocurred and I WAS TOTALLY SUPERVISING HIM, OK?!?!!!!  Give me a freakin' break!!!  Needless to say, I did not relax or enjoy the rest of the ride.

Then it was over.  I knew I would have to literally drag Wyatt across two parking lots, the station, bus bays, across a street, and down the block.  He screamed and threw himself to the ground every three feet.  It was horrible.  It took me 15 minutes in the broiling sun, in a not-so-great part of town, to force him back to the car.  I felt conspicuous, like a child abductor.

I'd forgotten my phone.  So even if there was anyone I could have called to come and help me, it wasn't possible.  I thought about stuffing Wyatt in a taxi-cab to save myself from dragging him the remaining two blocks.  But I am strong, I am Mom, hear me roar and all that.  Besides, I'm always irrationally afraid those cabs are going to charge a lot (but the few times I've taken one in my life it has always been very reasonable) and I'm sure the driver would have been both horrified and amused, also at my expense.

Wyatt screamed his head off all the way home.  Well, all the way to McDonalds.  Then he was fine.