It was summertime in my toddler years. A time when the flowers grow and the grass does too, sometimes wildly.  We were going to the local park, a favourite retreat for, as most of us in the area lived in flats with, at best, a rose bush or two in the front yard, or at worst, grey concrete, grey slippery concrete if the threatened rain made its appearance. If it did, the chances of causing a fall and a tear or two were likely. It, the park, was a treat and a chance to play or read in fresh air.  For once, it was a beautiful day. Armed with a small picnic, the world's best Grandpa and the tolerated Mummy took a certain toddler (me) to a haven of excitement.  It was relatively quiet, being a working day during the working week.  The world’s best Daddy was at work. Had he been with us… Well, you know what protective Daddys of small daughters are like.  Bless them.

When the sandwiches and fruit were demolished, all except mine, neither Grandpa nor Mummy could be bothered doing anything. I was happy to play with my doll.  After a while, Grandpa decided to stretch his legs and I wanted to go with him. Smiling, he looked down at me and said:

“I will be back soon, Poppet. Be a good girl for Mummy.”

With the cheek only a toddler can muster but not vocalise, I must have thought that if Grandpa could go away on his own, so could I, until Mummy yelled at me to come back.  Returning, I had no option but to sulk, as I saw it: I was bored…bored…bored.

I played with my doll, Mummy, with her knitting. So engrossed was she that she did not notice that I had quietly walked away, finding a patch of long grass. Freedom! I wandered further and further into the patch.  All I could see was grass, so tall it was smothering me. There was no path out. no one to help, just yards and yards (in a toddler’s perspective) of dry grass or maybe weed.   I panicked then, began to cry very loudly. I kept walking, seeing nothing. It was one thing being lost among strangers, but this? I recognised nothing until I saw Mummy. She did not say anything, just stared.

I was more frightened of her wrath than the grass. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice: Grandpa had returned.

“Well, there is absolutely no point in staring at her love.  I will go in and get Gina. Clearly, she is scared, as we both would be at her age and height."

Was Grandpa reprimanding his favourite big girl?

He picked me up, held me close and said:

“Well, poppet, I suspect you will never go on this kind of adventure again.”

Out of the mouths of Grandpas and now adult granddaughters.