Last night, while Emerson was at a birthday party, I took Kamryn and her cousin to Chuck E. Cheese. When you enter, they stamp your hand with a special number and the kids you bring with you get stamped with the same matching number. The number can only be seen under a black light, so it's invisible to someone not authorized to hold a small black light. The staff will not let you leave with any kid who does not wear your matching glowing number. Unfortunately, the teenager who stamped Cousin Jayson didn't do it right, so instead of having a "182" like me, his had showed only "18".
After we had eaten our salad and breadsticks, enjoyed as much of the huge creepy mouse and been sufficiently over stimulated with the noise, games and "rides", we were heading out. The teenager who was "exit security" freaked out. Jayson was separated immediately from me (the suspected kidnapper). They took my ID. Unfortunately, the only ID I had with me was my Malaysian Gold Card (which is like a green card in the US--it gives you the right to work and stay in the foreign country). To this teenager, I guess the only valid ID is a state issued drivers license, because she wasn't convinced that I didn't have plans to snatch this little blonde boy and take off to the airport to hide out in Malaysia. She was really confused my the ID I had given her and kept reading it over and over again, while I waited patiently.
I couldn't see Jayson's face, but I could hear them asking him "Who is that lady by the door?" "What is her name?"
I couldn't hear Jayson say ANYTHING and I worried that maybe he really didn't remember me. I know that if my 3 year old were in the same situation, she would most definitely remain silent.
Jayson's interrogator joined my interrogator and told me that they would have to call Jayson's parents before they would release him to me. I told them that I thought that was a great idea. However, I did explain that they probably better just call the cops because if I knew his parents names and phone number, my brother and sister in law, wouldn't I probably already have their permission to take their son to dinner? If I gave them a kidnapper helper's name and phone number, couldn't that helper pretend to be a parent of Jayson. I also pointed out that all the numbers that they had been stamping in the last hour were 3 digit numbers and Jayson's was a 2 digit number, so it was probably incorrectly stamped when we entered. They let us go and we didn't even have to make a phone call. Now that's what I call security!! Wow~
The funny part is when we buckled up and drove away I asked Jayson, "Hey, what is my name?" He giggled and said, "It's Aunt Shantelle, you knew that!"