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Entry tags:
In which Sami can't ignore small children
I'm siiiiiick. :whines extensively:
I woke up this morning feeling vaguely off, bit sore throat, now I feel like absolute hell and I can barely swallow and talking hurts.
In the meantime, I went into town to get my guitar dudes to check if the saddle on my G string was in shape. While I was there, I got a call from Dean, asking me if I could pick something up while I was in town. From, as it turns out, a shop that's about fifty metres, max, from my guitar shop, so that was very much a trivial request.
Even if the trip was profoundly exhausting due to my body's unexpected shutdown in response to whatever virus has hit my system, it was worth it for a few reasons, including saving Dean a trip into town that would have been a major inconvenience for her, and also including this:
On my way home from the bus stop, slogging exhaustedly with my guitar, camera bag, jumper, and a small quantity of shopping, I came across a small boy, about two years old, rather adorable with pale blond hair and a Tonka truck, playing on the footpath.
And no adults in sight.
Now, our street isn't the busiest street in the world, but it's fairly high-traffic for a residential street. There are many cars parked along it, so visibility, if driving down it, isn't that great when it comes to things like small children running out into the road.
I couldn't just keep walking. I couldn't. So I set my stuff down, and talked to the boy.
"Where do you live?"
"Here!" *points at house*
"So your Mum and Dad are there?"
"Yeah."
"Shouldn't you be playing inside the gate?"
"No! I here."
I wavered back and forth a bit. Not my kid, don't know him or his family at all, he seemed pretty relaxed and happy, and I was feeling like hell and desperately wanted to get home. Carrying all my stuff was exhausting. I wanted nothing more than juice and a soft surface to lie down on.
Looked at the house - couldn't see any parents watching through windows, anything like that.
Looked at the boy - small, sweet, utterly adorable, and six feet from the road. There's a bad feeling in leaving a small child unattended at the best of times, these days - paranoia about paedophiles is excessive, and I know it, but at the same time, it's not discountable. I confess it crossed my mind that that was a risk, but mostly I was worried about the road.
So, I went up to the house, knocked, a man came to the door accompanied by barking dogs. My suspicions that the kid was doing something he knew he shouldn't was confirmed when, as I did so, the boy came back to the garden at a run and put his truck down on the garden path, exclaiming to get my attention so I'd know he was back there.
Gotcha, boyo, thought I.
So, after the dogs quieted enough for me to get a word in, I asked the man: "Sir, is your son supposed to be outside the gate?"
Man, unlocking the front door: "No, no he isn't, that's why we have the door locked. Thank you, thank you very much."
Me, stepping out of his way: "No worries, I just thought I'd check."
Man: "Thank you. Now you, little man, are coming with me..." And lo, he scooped up the boy and the truck - which the boy had no reaction of surprise or anything to, so I was reasonably sure that he was used to the man and accustomed to being picked up by him, so I was confident enough I had the right adult.
And then I went home and collapsed. I am remaining collapsed for the evening, it looks like, watching videos and drinking juice and water in quantities as vast as I can manage.
I woke up this morning feeling vaguely off, bit sore throat, now I feel like absolute hell and I can barely swallow and talking hurts.
In the meantime, I went into town to get my guitar dudes to check if the saddle on my G string was in shape. While I was there, I got a call from Dean, asking me if I could pick something up while I was in town. From, as it turns out, a shop that's about fifty metres, max, from my guitar shop, so that was very much a trivial request.
Even if the trip was profoundly exhausting due to my body's unexpected shutdown in response to whatever virus has hit my system, it was worth it for a few reasons, including saving Dean a trip into town that would have been a major inconvenience for her, and also including this:
On my way home from the bus stop, slogging exhaustedly with my guitar, camera bag, jumper, and a small quantity of shopping, I came across a small boy, about two years old, rather adorable with pale blond hair and a Tonka truck, playing on the footpath.
And no adults in sight.
Now, our street isn't the busiest street in the world, but it's fairly high-traffic for a residential street. There are many cars parked along it, so visibility, if driving down it, isn't that great when it comes to things like small children running out into the road.
I couldn't just keep walking. I couldn't. So I set my stuff down, and talked to the boy.
"Where do you live?"
"Here!" *points at house*
"So your Mum and Dad are there?"
"Yeah."
"Shouldn't you be playing inside the gate?"
"No! I here."
I wavered back and forth a bit. Not my kid, don't know him or his family at all, he seemed pretty relaxed and happy, and I was feeling like hell and desperately wanted to get home. Carrying all my stuff was exhausting. I wanted nothing more than juice and a soft surface to lie down on.
Looked at the house - couldn't see any parents watching through windows, anything like that.
Looked at the boy - small, sweet, utterly adorable, and six feet from the road. There's a bad feeling in leaving a small child unattended at the best of times, these days - paranoia about paedophiles is excessive, and I know it, but at the same time, it's not discountable. I confess it crossed my mind that that was a risk, but mostly I was worried about the road.
So, I went up to the house, knocked, a man came to the door accompanied by barking dogs. My suspicions that the kid was doing something he knew he shouldn't was confirmed when, as I did so, the boy came back to the garden at a run and put his truck down on the garden path, exclaiming to get my attention so I'd know he was back there.
Gotcha, boyo, thought I.
So, after the dogs quieted enough for me to get a word in, I asked the man: "Sir, is your son supposed to be outside the gate?"
Man, unlocking the front door: "No, no he isn't, that's why we have the door locked. Thank you, thank you very much."
Me, stepping out of his way: "No worries, I just thought I'd check."
Man: "Thank you. Now you, little man, are coming with me..." And lo, he scooped up the boy and the truck - which the boy had no reaction of surprise or anything to, so I was reasonably sure that he was used to the man and accustomed to being picked up by him, so I was confident enough I had the right adult.
And then I went home and collapsed. I am remaining collapsed for the evening, it looks like, watching videos and drinking juice and water in quantities as vast as I can manage.