GIVE ME A BREAK

When I was out walking the other night, zoned out to the world, I heard the high-pitched words, “Give me a hug!” Startled to my senses, I looked to where the voice was coming from--and then I got even more startled. A little boy, probably 3’ish, was headed across the street, arms open, “Give me a hug! Give me a hug!”

I had no clue who this kid was. I quickly told him not to cross the street and looked to see if any traffic was coming our way, which, fortunately it wasn’t, because he just kept on rushing toward me, an accident ready to happen. “Give me a hug!”

I gave him a half-hearted hug because I was really pissed off at his mother, who was still in the yard watching what was taking place, maybe 50 feet behind him---talking on her damned cell phone!!! Now, you’d think if she wasn’t going to physically keep him under control she’d at least holler at him to stay out of the street. But, no. The phone conversation was obviously much more important than the little boy. I, a total stranger, was the one who told him to get back to the safety of his yard.

I’m not the type to get confrontational, especially about raising children, since I never had any, but it sure chaps my butt when common sense flies out the door. Geesh! What’s wrong with people? Don’t they teach their kids about the dangers of running into the street asking for attention from oddballs? If I’d had the nerve, here’s what I would have told that parent the other night: “Get off your stupid cell phone and go hug your kid before he gets run over!”

There, I’ve said it. But I don’t feel any better. --There’s an old African proverb: “It takes a village to raise a child.” But I sure wish the village idiots would get their priorities straight.

(P.S. I’m going to spare you Big Bore’s version of what he says he would have told that parent to do, because it’s not humanly possible. Well, I suppose it’s possible but it might mess up the cell phone reception!)