The day Tammy disappeared was a typical summer’s day in the
Danowski household. All the kids,
including the toddler, were rounded up and brought in for supper. And as soon as they were fed, they scooted
back outside.
When it started getting dark, and the children trooped back
in, Tammy was not among them. Where was
she? No one knew. No one had seen her. Everyone was back outside, calling her name,
and searching all the places the kids played.
The child was nowhere to be found.
Could she have wandered off to the playground, three blocks away, all by
herself? Two of the older children were
sent to investigate.
While the rest of the family, on the verge of panic, pacing
aimlessly and anxiously around the yard, Tammy was peacefully asleep on the
floor under the kitchen table, where had slipped, unnoticed, from her chair,
and curled up on the floor for a little snooze.
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Tammy was becoming something of an annoyance. She was okay during the day, cute and
fun. But at night, in the middle of the
night, when everyone was trying to sleep, she cried and cried. It got so bad, Mom took her to the
doctor. The doctor could find nothing
amiss. He asked if Tammy had an
afternoon nap. Mom said she did. Try skipping the nap, the doctor suggested.
But, as we can see, it took Tammy awhile to adjust to the
new routine. I don’t know for sure, but
I think after Tammy was located sleeping on the floor, instead of an afternoon
nap, Mom gave her a cup of strong, black coffee.
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