IKEA is a sensory playground for children, a blend of overwhelming stimuli that can be both exciting and disorienting.
Dear Jamie,
I regret not catching your last name during our brief yet pivotal encounter, but I want you to know how profoundly grateful I am for your assistance this past Sunday at the Brooklyn IKEA.
You witnessed the start of my frantic search: I was in the self-service area, grabbing a cart when I let go of my son’s hand for just a moment. In an instant, he was off like a bolt! I abandoned the cart and took off after him. You saw the panic unfold; I could see you watching as I shouted, “Is that your son?” To which I mindlessly replied, “Yes,” as I continued my pursuit. In that moment, my focus was solely on Colin, hoping to catch him before he disappeared.
Through the plants, housewares, and lighting sections, I managed to keep him in sight, but soon he slipped from view. His small frame and agile movements allowed him to weave through crowds of shoppers, each with their own carts and oversized IKEA bags.
What I didn’t realize was that you had taken off after Colin as well, but on your own path—ready to intercept him if I couldn’t catch up. Smart thinking, Jamie.
I dashed through the lower level, scanning every direction, praying he would stop somewhere. I considered the IKEA Café—Colin loves their french fries—but came up empty. Then a memory hit me: he was always drawn to a specific bedroom display. So, I began to search the second floor for that setup.
In the midst of my panic, I felt like a rat in a maze filled with wandering shoppers and Scandinavian decor. I tried to navigate the store quickly, inadvertently bumping into at least two customers and a Ypperlig floor lamp. Fortunately, it wobbled but remained upright.
After ten nerve-wracking minutes, I finally reached the bedroom display, but he was nowhere in sight. That’s when the true panic set in.
You see, Colin is autistic. While he is verbal, he struggles with pragmatic language; when anxious, he can have meltdowns that make it nearly impossible to communicate. He wouldn’t know whom to trust or where to go if he felt lost, and as you witnessed, he can be impulsive. I imagined him running out the door and into the icy parking lot, confused and frightened.
Just as I was about to seek more help, something remarkable happened: a voice echoed over the PA system, “Michael Thompson, please come to the rug department.” Again, “Michael Thompson, please come to the rug department.” What a relief!
I rushed to the nearest directory: Rugs, downstairs. But how to get there? The map was indecipherable, or maybe my mind was just racing. All I could picture was Colin, overwhelmed and possibly in distress, so I called upon my long-lost high school football agility to avoid collisions while making my way to Rugs.
Glassware, lamps, kitchenware—finally, RUGS! And there he was, Colin, lying on a stack of rugs, grinning from ear to ear and enjoying the sensation. And there you stood, Jamie, the person who had observed my frantic chase after my son. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
“Thank you so much! I can’t express how grateful I am!” I exclaimed, still catching my breath. “I had no idea you were looking for him, too!”
“No problem at all! I’m just glad I could help,” you replied with a friendly smile. “He’s a funny kid. It took me a bit to get him to tell me your name for the announcement.”
I felt compelled to share, “He’s autistic…” but you nodded, understanding immediately. “I could tell you needed help when I saw him run off. I’m just happy I found him.”
“Me too. You have no idea,” I responded, but perhaps you do. Maybe you understand how many autistic children go missing each year. Nearly half will elope before they reach 17, often facing dire consequences. Or perhaps it was simply intuition.
Whatever the case, you performed an extraordinary act. You recognized that a child running away from his father needed assistance, and rather than ignoring it, you took swift action. You saved us both from an unbearable situation.
So, Jamie, thank you. I didn’t catch your last name, but I did write to IKEA corporate, detailing Sunday’s events and urging them to acknowledge your compassion.
If our paths cross again, I’d love to treat you to a plate of Swedish meatballs in the IKEA Café. Colin will stick to his fries. For more parenting tips, including how to boost your fertility, you can check out this informative post on fertility supplements.
Summary
A heartfelt thank you to Jamie, a kind IKEA employee who assisted me in finding my son, Colin, during a moment of panic at the store. Colin, who is autistic, was lost in the throng of shoppers, and Jamie’s swift action helped reunite us. This experience underscores the importance of awareness and compassion in our communities.