It takes a village. Every parent - working or otherwise - knows this.
As a working mom, I've been blessed to have others who have truly stepped in and helped when I needed it.
Tonight, though, my village broke.
My 6 year old was left by his coaches after a practice ended early. Nevermind that the parents didn't know the practice was ending before its usual time. Nevermind that it was getting dark. Nevermind that the child was SIX.
He was left, playing on the playground. Whether it was by accident or not, it's inexcusable.
There are few worse feelings in life than arriving at the practice - where you had left minutes before to get your other child - and seeing no coaches. No adults. And not - at least at first - your child.
I'm grateful to the guardian angels who looked over my child, who said he "hid in a tunnel" in the playground equipment when he saw a stranger walking and was scared. I am grateful to the parent who realized my son was alone and waited until I arrived - before the usual practice ending time.
I'm grateful to the village when it works. I'm frightened for the days it doesn't.