The Forgotten Kid. I had looked forward to this day all week. My oldest, a thirteen year old gentle giant at 6’2″ with a size 16 shoe, had been gone at basketball camp all week. My youngest and I were out gathering groceries, preparing for a homecoming meal (okay, it was pizza) when my phone rang. It was number one. Pickup time. Turns out that pickup time was four hours earlier than I had planned, and I wasn’t there. Forgetting a kid somewhere is jut the worst feeling as a mom, and probably not a great feeling for a kid either. I was not nailing this motherhood thing.