I Saw Her

Last night, I made a stop on the way home. All I wanted was a sandwich or something, something to eat after work. I stopped by the local grocery store to pick something up before hopefully heading home, reading a bit, and then going to bed.

I didn't mean to see what I saw. I didn't want to see what I saw.  But I saw it, while I was standing in line at the store.

A mother and her daughter. The kid was maybe nine years old, and acting up. The mother had been in the service line for a while, clearly impatient, frustrated. The kid was impatient, too, and was acting up. Running in the store, making noise.

I admit I felt a moment of irritation. You get irritated, when someone else's children act up. It's almost an instinct. My baby, nine months old right now, is pretty good actually....He generally just wants to smile and observe people. I was hoping that he never became like this girl, loud and rude.

And then I saw her. The mother. Grabbed her child violently by the neck, and yanked her close. "GET OVER HERE!" she shouted, trying to get her child under control.

And I realized why the child acts like that. I felt bad for the child, and bad for judging her so harshly. My boy won't grow up like that, because he won't be abused.

"COME HERE!" the mother shouted, shaking her daughter by the neck. The child was terrified, crying, and I wanted to say something to the mother. I was about to walk over and say something, but I was across the room, and before I could get close enough, the mother hustled the little girl out the door, squeezing her neck the whole time. The girl was crying, afraid, and I wished I'd had the moment to speak to the mother.

Because I'd have told her. I'd have told her that there are better ways to deal with a child than the Vulcan Deathgrip. (Yes, I'm aware that there's really no such thing as the Vulcan Deathgrip, even on Star Trek. It's still a bad parenting technique.) I'd have told her that a child learns to act the way their parent acts, and a violent, hurtful mother will raise a violent, hurtful child.

I wanted to say all that. But there just wasn't time.

I saw her squeeze and push her child out of the store, angrily, without thinking of how afraid and hurt the child was.

I saw her in my mind, the rest of the night, as I rode home. I saw her as I ate my dinner. I saw her as I carried my little baby to bed.

And then I saw nothing but my little son as I gave him an extra hug and kiss that night, laid him down in his crib, and let him go to sleep. Because I want my son to grow up happy and secure, not hurting and afraid.