I got a call from a friend and I told her that I was eager to see her child. I have not seen her since her son’s birth, but I troll her “Crackbook” page for images of the little man. I said to her that I had been thinking of ways to reassure him when first we meet. She told me that her son, who is eight months old, is open and loving, and has no “stranger danger” feelings at all.
A long time ago I worked for a small print shop in Louisville, KY. My boss was the owner of the shop, and he spent some time explaining to me how he was teaching his young daughter to be afraid of anyone and everyone. I listened as I worked and when he paused for breath in his rant, I told him, “That’s OK: when she gets in trouble, my daughter will be there to help her.” (That was when I had one daughter; with two, you get twice the help.)
When I lived in St. Louis Missouri, my two youngest children would visit with me for extended periods. I allowed Chris and Lauryn to walk to the convenient store alone, a distance of a ½ block. They had been given the traditional cautions against chatting with strangers, but one day, came back with soft drinks and excitement, proud of having helped a man begging for change. After the low-key grilling I gave them, with reminders about not talking to strangers, I marched them back up to the store. Along the way, Lauryn pointed out the man, who was sitting on a bench at a bus stop. The kids were appalled to hear me upbraid the man, telling him that he should feel ashamed for soliciting money from children and closing with, “remember these two faces, and remember mine; when you see them again, you walk away!”
No matter how we teach and coach our children, they take cues from us about how to interact with the world; “Don’t talk to strangers” is one of the first rules to be tossed aside when we set them on the path to independence. They see and internalize our kindnesses and generosities, and emulate them when the opportunity is presented. But I understand why parents teach caution and I respect those decisions. I try to interact with children through their parents. I give gifts intended for them to the parents and I make sure that the child sees and is comfortable with the way in which I relate to the guardian before I approach the child.
My friend still lives in St. Louis, where four people have recently been arrested for kidnapping a 6-year-old to teach him a lesson because he was “too nice to people.” The little boy was terrorized with the consent and knowledge of his mother, aunt and grandmother. Sometimes, the greater danger comes not from the stranger. But I can’t wait to see my friend’s son, to crawl on the floor with him, and read to him from the book I sent to him before he was born.
Two great and giving hearts were combined and then concentrated into the space between the ribs of that young form whose face I see in those media posts. I cannot predict what his reaction will be to me, but his father included me in the wedding, and his mother introduced herself by walking up and extending her hand, saying, “Hi, I’m Ericka. Do you want to shoot pool?”
I can’t wait to hear her say to me, “This is my son.”