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watch your kid cause I shouldn’t have to and why you gotta speak to them that way

Posted on August 25, 2013 by T. Anthony-Horton

I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. We’ve all been unnerved, angered, surprised, and left with our mouths left wide open from the way some folks treat their kids – especially at “the mall.”

Yesterday, a girlfriend and I went on a Megabus trip to the Harrisburg Mall (which is very nice, by the way) in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – if you guys haven’t taken advantage of their cheap trips, you really should. For both of us, it cost $4.50 roundtrip, but I digress once again.

Being the observer that I am, I was people watching on a bench while waiting for my girl to come out of a store. I happened to be near two of those little rides that the kids can ride a minute or so for fifty cents. A few kids had already taken their turns when a little girl ran excitedly to get on. There were two older girls with her, but the mother never came near the ride – she went directly into one of the stores. After a time, the two older girls left the area and went to join the mother. The toddler who was no more than three years old stayed where she was, running around, enjoying freedom as a child her age should. Only problem was, I shouldn’t have been the one to watch her actions and make sure she didn’t hurt herself. This went on for a few minutes. From where I sat, I could see inside the store and not once did the mother come to check on the toddler. One of the older girls would peek from the store’s window, but never left to check on the kid either.

As the toddler continued to play by herself, a lone man came on the scene and stood by the railing, looking down on the shoppers below. The toy ride was the only thing separating him from me. I couldn’t see the kid anymore. I got up and walked around the ride to where “happy girl” was. There she stood right next to this male stranger, trying to mimic him as he leaned over the railing. I held my hand out and said, “C’mere, Sweetie.”

Sidebar folks – this is why I don’t believe in and have never taught my kid to “never speak to strangers” – a stranger can save your life or at the very least help. I never taught her to just go and talk to strangers either, but I think you guys feel where I’m coming from.

But, the little girl happily took my hand as I led her into the store that was more important to mom than the whereabouts of her kid. As I handed the babe off, I simply said, “She was running around by herself.” The mother angrily stared at the older child and said, “thank you” to me. As I walked away, I wondered what kind of trouble awaited the older kid. I shook my head.

Now, I was willing to watch the kid free of charge, but the babysitting fee would have raised drastically if I had to run after the child who was snatched by a pervert. Thank God it didn’t end that way, but you never know the intentions of others.

This is an actual photo of the mall I got from the internet. This is what the little girl saw as she was peering down.

This is an actual photo of the mall I got from the internet. This is what the little girl saw as she was peering down.

Story #2: I was in the fitting room, trying on jeans that didn’t completely cover my little ass (why do designers think everyone wants their cracks showing? How much material does it take to cover a butt as small as mine?) when from another room, someone was berating her child. She was yelling at the kid about how she couldn’t take her anywhere and why she “gotta touch that” and my all time favorite, “I’mma punch you in the face. You took all the beads off my bracelet.” I mean, every sentence was followed by another degrading one.

And my girl heard even more than I did – she said the girl told the little one, “That’s why I’mma leave your ass home next time” and “…always touching something.”

As I exited the fitting room, the bad parent did too – a young girl (not surprising), with the kid who was knee high to the door knob and younger than the one in the first story. I just shook my head. What kid no taller than your knee caps can keep their fidgety hands by their sides and not touch anything? You must have patience to have children, children!

I’m sure you all have seen some of the same mannerisms or worse. How does it make you feel when you witness that type of behavior and have you ever intervened?

Thanks for your feedback.

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My Kid: Then & Now

Posted on June 20, 2013 by T. Anthony-Horton

Thursday, June 20, 2013 is a very special day. It’s the day Nirvana will participate in the promotional exercise for the 8th Grade Class of Bache Martin Elementary School. We parents were told not to call it a graduation because “8th graders do not graduate; 12th graders do.” And that is also why they do not wear a cap with their gown. I learned this earlier in the year during a meeting with the principal when she politely corrected me after I mentioned the word “graduation.” Thank you, Ms. Duperon. I say that with no malcontent because I like and admire the lady. Because of her, Nirvana is involved in the Emerging Young Leaders program sponsored by the Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority.

Nirvana began her first school experience in Bache Martin’s Comprehensive Day Care when she was 3 years old. She told me yesterday how it finally hit her that she would no longer be in Bache; said it was the only school she’s ever known. Color her bittersweet. I feel the same. I’ve become close friends with some of the parents. We’ve been on trips together, gone to Home & School meetings, worked Spirit Day together, school bazaars, flea markets and a host of other things… yep, definitely bittersweet for me as well.

I remember so vividly the day Nirvana’s babysitter, Bren-Bren, kicked us to the curb. She said, “Tillie, I can’t do anything else with her. She needs to go school” – words I never wanted to hear. How dare she say that! I still laugh at my response (read on).

My wandering mind thought about my little Nirvana leaving the comfort of that cozy and nicely decorated house with all those neatly aligned collectible magnets on the refrigerator. The same refrigerator that held all that home made food Bren-Bren had fed to my baby. She was Nirvana’s surrogate grandmother. I thought about my girl going to school with other children she (I) didn’t know – children with snotty noses and bad habits. All the things that would take me out my comfort zone! I shook my head and said, “I want her to go to college from here! I don’t want her to leave you!” Well, needless to say, Bren-Bren kicked us out and forced me to enroll Nirvana in school! When Wayne and I first carried Nirvana into Bren-Bren’s house, she was just 3 months old – and now she was kicking us out!

True story: Nirvana is introduced to her first human contact that made her uncomfortable. I received a call at work stating she’s been crying and has the other kids crying as well. I let her cry until I got off work (I wasn’t leaving just because she was crying). When I walked into the room, I understood why the entire class had been upset – the teacher’s aide’s eyes were bulging and going in the direction of east and west! The kids were frightened out of their minds. The aide told me that Nirvana made everyone else cry because they saw her crying; said she kept repeating, “I don’t like the eyes, I don’t like the eyes!” I must admit that while I was speaking to the aide, I didn’t know which eye to look into so I stared at that nothing space in between. “I’ll talk to her and calm her down,” I said. How do you tell a 3 year old not to cry at something they’re afraid of. Nirvana didn’t want to go to school the next day – but she did. I heard her screaming as I walked out of the classroom and down the hall….

To this day, she remembers the eyes, but nothing else about the lady – pause – she seems well adjusted to me….

June 20, 2013, she’s grown into an intelligent (debatable at times) gorgeous young lady who I am immensely proud of. She keeps God in her heart and she wants to please her parents and her big sister, Muriel. I look at her and wonder where my little girl went – the one I loved picking up under her arms when she was small enough to do so. She tells me now, “I’m still here, Mommy, and you can still pick me up.” I chuckle when I visualize her shaving under those same arms. I laugh/cringe when I see her growing body has more curves than mine. “I don’t think so, babe,” I say.

But I love her. Have I been braggin’ on my kid? You damned right! Wouldn’t you? Haven’t you? Shouldn’t you? I love my kid! Thank you, Lord, I love my kid and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in this world.

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