I am one of the parents chaperoning my twin daughters’ second-grade field trip to the science department of a nearby college. Staff usher us into an expansive room where strange, and interesting artifacts and skeletons don the surfaces and walls. Children are directed to sit on the floor along the long walls that are interspersed with a few chairs for the adults. After we get settled, I watch with interest as other groups file in and do the same.

How many groups can this hold? I wonder.

Finally, I see a daycare center enter with their little ones. This will be way over their heads, I think. Heck, it may be over the second-graders’ heads.

Just as the presentation begins, a disheveled little blond girl from the daycare crosses the length of the room and silently crawls up onto my lap. I am stunned. I look over at the staff. No-one makes a move to retrieve her.

I sit wide-eyed and stiff as she snuggles her head into my chest, sitting crosswise with her little legs dangling off to the side. She smells, not unpleasantly, of pancake syrup and unwashed hair.

One of my daughters looks up at me quizzically and I just shrug.

This is odd. I am a stranger! Why doesn’t her staff come to get her? I see one staff member eyeing us, thoughtfully. She does nothing.

Then the sweet weight of her little body seems to meld with mine. I put an arm around her and begin to relax. When the presentation is over, I lean into her and whisper, “Honey, you have to go back to your group.” Gingerly, she gets up and goes to the back of the line.