“A child that is being
abused by its parents
doesn’t stop loving
its parents. It stops
loving itself.” 
~ Shahidi Arabi 

“GODDAMMIT! DON’T DO THAT!”

The loud, shrill voice of a woman in the parking structure at Westfield Valley Fair Mall in Santa Clara this evening was one I could not ignore. So much has been written lately about security concerns in the parking structures of local malls, I felt compelled to investigate immediately. I took a few steps back and peered between two parked minivans. From that vantage point, I could see the woman, who was clearly agitated. The trunk of her car was open. The woman was tossing bags of items into the trunk while her toddler-age child sat in a stroller next to the car. No one else was around. The woman was upset with the crying toddler.

I stood there for several seconds taking in the situation. The woman saw me and said, rather caustically, “Do you have a problem?”  

“Apparently, I do,” I replied. “Verbal abuse of a small child should be a problem for any responsible person.”

“F%#@ you,” she said as she slammed the trunk and quickly moved the child from the stroller to the carseat in the vehicle. I just stood and watched until she backed out of the parking space and drove away.

It’s true. It wasn’t my business. My first thought was that the woman was in danger. When I realized that she had been screaming at the toddler, I was dumbfounded. I could have simply ignored the disturbance. Many others might have done so. I chose to investigate, and upon doing so, observed the dispiriting situation. Holiday stress? Perhaps. While not excusing the inappropriate behavior of the mother, I can certainly understand how the pressures of holiday shopping can put one on edge. But the child… what could a child of that age possibly have done to deserve such a verbal lashing?

I was not a perfect parent. I, too, responded inappropriately at times to things my kids said or did when they were young. I am not proud of the way I handled some situations. On more than one occasion, I sat down, held the hands of the son I had offended, looked directly into his eyes, and apologized for my inappropriate response. Those apologies, followed by a long hug, always made me feel better. I hope it made them feel better, too.

I don’t regret that I stopped and addressed the situation at the mall this evening. I don’t think I was rude, but I did convey a very clear message that the woman’s treatment of her child was not appropriate, and that yes, someone noticed.

They say, “It takes a village…” Sometimes we have an obligation to pay attention — and to speak out.