Of when mamma suffered a minor heart attack...

Mamma and the brat traipsed down to the park last evening. The brat was scrambling around the place, dressed in his Superman costume complete with trailing cape, flying over mounds of grass and rescuing folks who had absolutely no desire to be rescued by infernal superhero who had the knack of getting slap in the middle of games being played. Mamma began doing her not so diligent rounds around the park area, gossiping a bit with some friends enroute. And then Mamma looked around, suddenly aware that Superbrat's shrieks of rescuing were not to be heard. And realised with a sinking heart, that Superbrat was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's brat?" she ran to the group of brat sized tykes who were busy Power Rangering each other out of breath.
"I don know, Aunty," said one, after he paused to catch his breath.
Mamma ran down to the compound. "Have you seen brat?" she asked everyone she could spot in the vicinity. "He's wearing a Superman costume with a cape?"
"No," "I dont know," "I cant remember" Mamma was frantic. Mamma's friend's came down from the park and we trawled the entire huge compound and parking area, yelling out brat's name, deploying the older children and the watchmen in the search. By this point, worst case scenarios had started playing in a loop in Mamma's brain. The brat had slipped out of the gates and had been picked up by a kidnapping racket kingpin parked just outside the gate waiting for this moment. Brat had gotten into a lift in any of the three towers (three towers, with three lifts each and friends in every tower) and was going up and down in an endless loop, or the lift was stuck and brat couldnt reach the emergency button and had panicked and fainted. Mamma panicked and almost fainted. She grabbed every watchman in sight by the collar and snarled, "Have you seen a Superman costume wearing child go thisaway?" One watchman had. "He took the lift," he squeaked, rubbing his throat, gasping for breath. Mamma deployed hurt throat watchman by lifts and called every flat number which housed a friend, to find the brat snugly ensconsced in one friend's home on the 7th floor. "I was just about to call you," says said friend's mother. Brat was duly dragged home. Stern warnings issued about child beggar rackets and kidnappings and sterner warnings about not being let in if he wanders off with asking for permission. Dont know how much of it has sunk in, but mamma is not going to take her eyes off him for a second now on. Yes, some new grey popped up along the hairline too.