Through the Eyes of a Child

                       

I recently recalled an incident that took place a couple of decades ago. I was out to brunch with my friend Christopher, his wife Kristi, and their very young son Casey. It was a routine meal, until we became aware of a commotion across the room. Apparently, another patron had experienced a health crisis, quite possibly a heart attack. There was no outcry, but as is typical in such situations, a crowd gathered around the table. Someone was on the floor; someone else was trying to render aid, and someone called 911.

We stayed put, not wanting to get in the way and knowing there was nothing we could contribute to the situation anyway.

But after a few minutes, Christopher picked up Casey (very young, as I said -- probably no more than one and a half, just barely vocal, much less verbal) and said "I'm taking him outside. He doesn't need to see this." He stayed outside the restaurant with Casey as the rest of us finished our meal and settled the check.  We left the restaurant before the ambulance even arrived, though I remember listening for sirens and hearing them far off in the distance, as we drove out of the parking lot.

I never said anything to Christopher but thought about it quite a bit. Christopher had clearly assumed that Casey understood this scene exactly the way he did:

• Someone was seriously ill
• They might die
• People were upset
• EMTs were on their way
• The outcome was uncertain

These assumptions came from Christopher's personal experience. Most of us, at some point, have witnessed such episodes. Sometimes we're unfortunate enough that the person experiencing a health crisis in public is someone we care very much about. It's an extremely emotional time, and for those who are more sensitive than average, even a stranger, being attended to by other strangers, has a lasting impact.

But what, exactly, was Casey seeing that he didn't "need to see?"

• Many people standing together, facing away from Casey (there were so many people, it was impossible to see more than a glimpse of anything else, such as a person lying on the floor)
• Other people sitting at their tables, perhaps looking across the room to the group standing around
• Servers going about their business

In short, there wasn't much to see, or even hear. No one cried out "Oh my god! She's having a heart attack! Mom!! Get an ambulance!" No collective gasps. I don't even remember seeing anyone with their hand pressed to their mouth, or other body language to indicate distress or worry. As crises go, it was exceptionally quiet and low-key.

Here are some things that a young toddler will not understand (without prolonged exposure to the situation and explanation from an adult):

• Heart attacks
• Death
• Emergency medical procedures

I wonder what Christopher and his wife may have said to Casey later that day. I'm hoping they said nothing, and let the incident pass.

Children are wise in many ways, but we (especially their parents) sometimes give them credit for more than their little brains can actually conceive.