On Stranger Danger

Last week, Ariel Castro, who imprisoned three teenage girls for a decade, hanged himself in prison after only 33 days of a lifetime sentence.  Also last week, Elizabeth Smart (also imprisoned as a teenager), released her book.  Long story short- it's pretty creepy out there for kids.

I was born in the 1980s, and I will freely admit that I tend to think of life in all decades before that as consisting of kids playing stickball in the street before coming home to their well-balanced dinners but, even though that's totally false, you have to admit that it was a lot easier to let your kid be gone for hours at a time, or even to let them out of your eyesight, back then.

But I feel like everyone knows that.  Which is why I can't figure out exactly how this happened yesterday:
B and I are in the train station and, as we're walking, a creep-o guy rips open a Twix package, and proceeds to hand half of it to B.  I stick my hand out and say, "He can't have that".  This guy though, shoves it in B's hand and walks away with this little smirk, like he thinks he's some sort of spoily grandpa.

So, I'm sure that Spoily Grandpa was sort of surprised when I grabbed the Twix out of B's hand and shoved it into the trash can.  Actually, I'm sure he was whispering "bitch" under his breath, but that's cool.  If you try to give my kid candy in a train station, I am going to kick you in the back of your fricking knees.

What.
Are.
You.
Thinking.

Do you know how much time I- and all parents, I imagine- spend trying to cultivate a balanced sense of stranger danger, while simultaneously trying to keep your kid from thinking the entire world is evil?  Because it sort of sucks.  But you definitely love your kid enough to do it.

I will admit that this guy seemed a little imbalanced.  Train stations aren't really filled with shining stars.  I get it.  Except that it happens ALL. THE. TIME.

Just one example: On Tuesday, we were in line at Meijer when a mom with several kids carts in behind us and immediately starts talking to B.  Which isn't a problem, except here's her immediate line of questioning:
Was today your first day of school?
What grade are you in?
What's your name?

A.  These are not appropriate questions to ask a child in line at Meijer.
B.  I do not understand this.  As a mom, would you want some random stranger asking your child questions like that?
C.  Exactly how am I supposed to explain to him that it is sometimes okay to talk to random strangers, but not other times.  He can't possibly have the discretion to tell the difference.

There are PLENTY of ways to acknowledge a child without being intrusive.  Here are a few.
Smile at the kid.
Wave at the kid.
Say, "I like your Cars shirt", then cart along on your merry way.

On the train ride home, drunkish guy on the way to the U of M game saw B's head pop up over the top of the seat.  Immediately: "Hey, Red!  What are you doing up there?"
He proceeded to do this for the rest of the freaking ride.

Sorry, my Amtrack-ing, friends.  But we don't live in that world anymore.  Maybe I am robbing B of all kinds of Tuesdays With Morrie moments, but I'm definitely saving him from a tell-all autobiography, and I'm cool with that.

After Twixgate, we had a big talk about strangers, and how we don't talk to people we don't know.

Did it work?
Not exactly.

A few minutes before the train came, we went outside and sat on the bench to wait.  On the bench, there was an empty Gatorade bottle and pack of cigarettes, and when B saw it, he very loudly stated, "MOM!  WE HAVE TO GET RID OF THESE THINGS!  THEY BELONG TO STRANGERS!!"

So at this point in time, he's just afraid of littering.  But it's a start.