re: What is your opinion on parents who forget their children in the car?

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Once I nearly walked into the store without my son. I was half out of the car when I remembered he was with me. It was an out of the ordinary situation like those parents claim. He decided he wanted to come at the last minute. But as soon as I caught myself, the gut wrench horror was awful. Can't imagine what those people go thru. But it still haunts me for forgetting for a half second.

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See, this is what I mean. Like last week I realized I needed to get an oil change so I decided I would go the next day during my lunch break. But mentally I had already pictured going through my day without getting my oil changed so my brain just went into cruise control and I completely forgot. It would have taken a specific trigger to remind me to go. I know some of you will say that's apples and oranges, but the brain can do some strange things even to the most loving parents

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Theoretically I understand, and theoretically I see how communism works. In reality I have no idea how someone could do it.

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I would have said exactly this.

And then, I almost did it.

You probably don't know a person alive that is more wrapped up in his children than I am. And, I've almost left them in the car more than once.

I've never actually done it, but, I know it can happen. And, when you almost do it, you're like, "how in the frick!!!!!?????"

But, each time, I was out of my routine and something happened to shift my mind.

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I've never actually done it, but, I know it can happen. And, when you almost do it, you're like, "how in the frick!!!!!?????" 

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Exactly. I actually think the whole "I care about my kids too much to be that careless" line of thinking is dangerous. Almost invites your brain to put it out of your mind and get distracted by other things

But for the grace of God.


Any alteration in routine can frick up a person. Especially when the child is very little. They don't make noise and parents aren't used to them yet.

I personally drove about a mile or two once with my then 3 month old son unstrapped in his car seat. Wife and I shite ourselves. We visited friends and he slept the entire visit almost. We just kept him in the car seat/carrier.

After my second child was born our routine was for me to take the oldest to school and my wife to take the baby to daycare. On at least two occasions where we deviated from our routine and I took the baby to daycare, I went into autopilot thinking about work and drove straight to my office. Because my son was still a baby, he just slept quietly in the back. I only rememberef him after I parked and before I got out of the car and another time not until after I got out of the car.

I'm an educated, middle class professional who is a very active parent in my kids' lives.

Given the right set of circumstances, this could happen to a lot of good people/parents.

I can tell you about one instance to give an example of how stupid events can get you.

I was still in the Army at the time.

I normally didn't drive the baby to daycare. My wife did. The baby was about 8 months old and was sound asleep backwards facing in the car. I didn't have to go to PT that day because I had a doctor's appointment before 0900.

On my way to daycare, I get a call. One of my Soldiers just keeled over on the track while doing sprints. Turned out he had experienced a heart attack. In any case, dude was being brought to the ER and the SSG had called to let me know. I immediately got on the phone to inform my higher HQ of the issue. They wanted me to keep them abreast and told them I would go to the ER to track what was going on.

Drove to the ER. Got out of the car. Ran inside and as I hit the doors, I realized, "frick, baby is in the car".

Do you realize how easily I could've been a news story there?

So no. Don't think it can't happen to good people. It can. It does.

My brain is wired to never forget my children at anything, but my brain is also wired to not get over the divorce that was done to me. I wish my brain was wired to be able to get over divorce and forget my children at everything. But we don't have a choice how our brains are wired.

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Fatal Distraction

Sometimes it is just a fatal distraction. Often it has to do with a break in routine and a horrible mistake is made. Some people can never forgive themselves. Of course there are some who forget because they never think about their kids anyway.

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you had an extra period in the link, it's here

i wanted to fix the link because this is one of the most amazing newspaper pieces written -- it won gene weingarten his 2nd pulitzer prize for writing it. i almost have to read through the whole thing everytime i come across it.

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forgot about something 

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Cell phone, wallet, etc = something

Living breathing child, that I love and worry about at every other thought, isn't something I could forget.

Now i have misplaced shite while caring for my child

I always think of this story when on this subject:


Have you ever forgotten your phone?
When did you realise you’d forgotten it? I’m guessing you didn’t just smack your forehead and exclaim ‘damn’ apropos of nothing. The realisation probably didn’t dawn on you spontaneously. More likely, you reached for your phone, pawing open your pocket or handbag, and were momentarily confused by it not being there. Then you did a mental restep of the morning’s events.
shite.
In my case, my phone’s alarm woke me up as normal but I realised the battery was lower than I expected. It was a new phone and it had this annoying habit of leaving applications running that drain the battery overnight. So, I put it on to charge while I showered instead of into my bag like normal. It was a momentary slip from the routine but that was all it took. Once in the shower, my brain got back into ‘the routine’ it follows every morning and that was it.
Forgotten.
This wasn’t just me being clumsy, as I later researched, this is a recognised brain function. Your brain doesn’t just work on one level, it works on many. Like, when you’re walking somewhere, you think about your destination and avoiding hazards, but you don’t need to think about keeping your legs moving properly. If you did, the entire world would turn into one massive hilarious QWOP cosplay. I wasn’t thinking about regulating my breathing, I was thinking whether I should grab a coffee on the drive to work (I did). I wasn’t thinking about moving my breakfast through my intestines, I was wondering whether I’d finish on time to pick up my daughter Emily from nursery after work or get stuck with another late fee. This is the thing; there’s a level of your brain that just deals with routine, so that the rest of the brain can think about other things.
Think about it. Think about your last commute. What do you actually remember? Little, if anything, probably. Most common journeys blur into one, and recalling any one in particular is scientifically proven to be difficult. Do something often enough and it becomes routine. Keep doing it and it stops being processed by the thinking bit of the brain and gets relegated to a part of the brain dedicated to dealing with routine. Your brain keeps doing it, without you thinking about it. Soon, you think about your route to work as much as you do keeping your legs moving when you walk. As in, not at all.
Most people call it autopilot. But there’s danger there. If you have a break in your routine, your ability to remember and account for the break is only as good as your ability to stop your brain going into routine mode. My ability to remember my phone being on the counter is only as reliable as my ability to stop my brain entering ‘morning routine mode’ which would dictate that my phone is actually in my bag. But I didn’t stop my brain entering routine mode. I got in the shower as normal. Routine started. Exception forgotten.
Autopilot engaged.
My brain was back in the routine. I showered, I shaved, the radio forecast amazing weather, I gave Emily her breakfast and loaded her into the car (she was so adorable that morning, she complained about the ‘bad sun’ in the morning blinding her, saying it stopped her having a little sleep on the way to nursery) and left. That was the routine. It didn’t matter that my phone was on the counter, charging silently. My brain was in the routine and in the routine my phone was in my bag. This is why I forgot my phone. Not clumsiness. Not negligence. Nothing more my brain entering routine mode and over-writing the exception.
Autopilot engaged.
I left for work. It’s a swelteringly hot day already. The bad sun had been burning since before my traitorously absent phone woke me. The steering wheel was burning hot to the touch when I sat down. I think I heard Emily shift over behind my driver’s seat to get out of the glare. But I got to work. Submitted the report. Attended the morning meeting. It’s not until I took a quick coffee break and reached for my phone that the illusion shattered. I did a mental restep. I remembered the dying battery. I remembered putting it on to charge. I remembered leaving it there.
My phone was on the counter.
Autopilot disengaged.
Again, therein lies the danger. Until you have that moment, the moment you reach for your phone and shatter the illusion, that part of the brain is still in routine mode. It has no reason to question the facts of the routine; that’s why it’s a routine. Attrition of repetition. It’s not as if anyone could say ‘why didn’t you remember your phone? Didn’t it occur to you? How could you forget? You must be negligent’; this is to miss the point. My brain was telling me the routine was completed as normal, despite the fact that it wasn’t. It wasn’t that I forgot my phone. According to my brain, according to the routine, my phone was in my bag. Why would I think to question it? Why would I check? Why would I suddenly remember, out of nowhere, that my phone was on the counter? My brain was wired into the routine and the routine was that my phone was in my bag.
The day continued to bake. The morning haze gave way to the relentless fever heat of the afternoon. Tarmac bubbled. The direct beams of heat threatened to crack the pavement. People swapped coffees for iced smoothies. Jackets discarded, sleeves rolled up, ties loosened, brows mopped. The parks slowly filled with sunbathers and BBQ’s. Window frames threatened to warp. The thermometer continued to swell. Thank frick the offices were air conditioned.
But, as ever, the furnace of the day gave way to a cooler evening. Another day, another dollar. Still cursing myself for forgetting my phone, I drove home. The days heat had baked the inside of the car, releasing a horrible smell from somewhere. When I arrived on the driveway, the stones crunching comfortingly under my tyres, my wife greeted me at the door.
“Where’s Emily?”
frick.
As if the phone wasn’t bad enough. After everything I’d left Emily at the fricking nursery after all. I immediately sped back to the nursery. I got to the door and started practising my excuses, wondering vainly if I could charm my way out of a late fee. I saw a piece of paper stuck to the door.
“Due to vandalism overnight, please use side door. Today only.”
Overnight? What? The door was fine this morni-.
I froze. My knees shook.
Vandals. A change in the routine.
My phone was on the counter.
I hadn’t been here this morning.
My phone was on the counter.
I’d driven past because I was drinking my coffee. I’d not dropped off Emily.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d moved her seat. I hadn’t seen her in the mirror.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d fallen asleep out of the bad sun. She didn’t speak when I drove past her nursery.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d changed the routine.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d changed the routine and I’d forgotten to drop her off.
My phone was on the counter.
9 hours. That car. That baking sun. No air. No water. No power. No help. That heat. A steering wheel too hot to touch.
That smell.
I walked to the car door. Numb. Shock.
I opened the door.
My phone was on the counter and my daughter was dead.
Autopilot disengaged.