The Bunny Incident

And then the other shoe drops, when Bunny brings the Fjørdgasm to a crashing halt but for a daring last-minute rescue.

Despite United Airlines and Newark Liberty Airport's best efforts, we finally looked down on the rolling hills of eastern Norway, furry with Norway spruce and dotted with farms and lakes, through the windows of SAS 458 from Copenhagen to Oslo. Her Miniature Majesty, Mia, not yet two and already proven as resilient and irrepressible a world traveler as any of us, is napping, as 24 hours of traveling will make you do. We'll wake her up to walk her through customs, having already checked passports in Copenhagen, then get our luggage, then haul it downstairs to board the train for Hokksund.

It takes more than a few planes and airports to suppress these people's spirits.

Crabby? Not at all. This little girl is as excited to be traveling as she was on day one. Every airplane is equally delightful and new, not to mention the train! Standing by the doors holding my massive ski case, too big to lay down in a crowded train car during rush commuter hour, I can hear her warbling, giggling, and yodeling with her sisters, further back in the car, the entire hour and a half to Hokksund.

Mia is going on day two of little sleep and yet for her life is a big bag of sunshine, unicorns, and rainbows. Me, I'm starting to drag. I'm sweaty from hauling 60 lbs of luggage, Her Majesty in her backpack carrier, and my backpack, which must be another 20lbs, I swear, around. And the car is hot. No air conditioning in Norway, you see; it's just not something that's typically needed, kind of like central heating in Bangkok.

And I still need to walk to my mom's house when we get to Hokksund. That was the trade-off of not having to drag a car seat all the way there: No car seat, no ride from the train station. It's not a long walk, maybe fifteen minutes, and it feels good to stretch my legs anyway. Mia's on board. Of course Mia's on board: Mia's on board with everything. So off we go, through the town where I grew up.

Her Highness approves of the views from her mount.

Mia's chattering away back there on her perch. Water! Birds! Flowers! Little do I know, that somewhere along our pleasant stroll she's gotten distracted and left someone behind. We are one short but blissfully unaware.

Yet.

At my mom's house, the first thing Mia sees is the trampoline. Because what does anyone want to do after two days of airports, busses, planes, and trains? Why, jump, of course! So jump she does. And then learn a new word, lompe, from uncle Einar. And pick flowers with bestemor.

Aunt Mai's house, looking out at the trampoline. Maybe another round of jumping?

Look! Flowers!

It's nine before she agrees it's time to go to bed. We've set up a portable bed I ordered ahead online, and bestemor has bought her a nice, thick down dyne, a comforter. Everything is ready. The stars are lined up. The baby is going to sleep.

Except now we notice we're one short. No Bunny.

Clockwise from left: Big Bear, Mia, Bear, Blankie, and in the center, of course, Bunny.

Somewhere along this blue line, Bunny waits for rescue.

You have to understand who Bunny is. Bunny is Mia's constant. Bunny is the center of the universe and the container of all that is comforting in an uncertain world. Bunny is to Mia what Linus Van Pelt's blanket is to him. There is no sleep without Bunny.

But now there's no Bunny. We had Bunny at the station, and now we don't. She dropped Bunny somewhere in Hokksund, Norway, where Bunny knows noone and probably not even the language. Mia is inconsolable. Mia's bed is a chasm of despair without Bunny. Bear isn't enough. Blankie isn't enough. We must have Bunny.

So I strap the wailing child to my back once again to retrace my steps, in a desperate hope Bunny will still be where she no doubt dropped him. Damn my aching shoulders, this is not negotiable. Nothing. Nothing. No Bunny. Past Arbeideren, 40 years ago our local movie theater and now a community center of sorts. Past Coop, the grocery store, affectionately known as the Prix. Over the bridge where I used to walk to middle, then high school.

Nothing. By now she's got no fuel left but for quiet, pleading sobs … Bunny. And I'm resigning myself that this might be how we live now; life after Bunny, a dark and joyless place of loneliness and grief.

At which time my sister, Mai, and my niece, Amalie, save the day. They walked the dog over to the train station and found Bunny neatly folded on a pillar by the sidewalk, no doubt put there by a kindly local. This is, after all, a place where you don't need to lock your doors at night. Bunny is safe. Bunny is found. Bunny is back with Mia, who promptly closed her eyes and fell asleep for 12 hours.

Good night, pappa. The world is a good place now.

The Fjørdgasm is back on track.