Yesterday C and K had their first soccer practice. Johan is coaching them this year, I think I'm just a little too pregnant to coach. Both boys were very excited to practice AND it was a glorious sunny and warm day (the first in weeks), so the boys ran down to the park a few minutes before me. They took a walkie talkie with strict instructions not to talk to strangers. They radioed me twice asking for permission to say "hello" to adult friends that they encountered on their trip, and then again to let me know that they were at the park and were going to practice taking shots on each other. I drove down with all the equipment within 10 minutes.
When I arrived at the park a group of about 6 kids, the oldest of which was about 12 and the youngest of which was about 4, were walking towards C and K with a bit of a tough looking strut. I decided to watch to see what would unfold. C and K were practicing on the baseball diamond, using the backstop to catch their shots. These kids were a little rough looking and had a baseball and one glove. The kids approached C and K and (as I was later informed) said, "I just want to warn you that we are going to play baseball here so if you get hit don't come crying to us." At the time I was too far away to hear what was being said but I could tell the kids were trying to push C and K away. We weren't going to practice on that part of the field, so I asked C and K to come with me and we could practice near where we wanted the other kids to arrive.
We moved ourselves across the field. We were about 300 yards away from the baseball diamond when I saw that the kids who had so badly wanted the field were leaving. I was thinking that I should talk to C and K about how the kids were only enjoying the field because they were bugging/bullying C and K and that when we didn't express any anger and didn't show that we were at all upset by them it was no longer fun and they were leaving. But then it hit me that C and K no longer were holding their walkie talkie. I asked them where it was and they said they left it on the bench behind the baseball backstop. K ran over to get it. C and I could see him holding up his hands to demonstrate that it was no longer there. I was completely shocked, those kids left not because we were passive to their bullying, but because they were STEALING!
I told C and K to keep practicing and I would see if I could catch up to the kids. The group had moved away quickly but I thought I could see them down by the playground. I walked quickly (I haven't run in a long time) but as soon as they saw me (I'm hard to miss eight months pregnant and wearing a bright billowy red top) they scattered and ran. Something in my brain snapped and I was off, running as if I wasn't pregnant at all. Although I do think I could have caught them a lot faster if I weren't eight months pregnant. In my defense, I knew that Johan was on his way and that the boys would only be alone at the park for a few more minutes. A little more than a quarter mile (it felt like many miles) later I caught up to a little boy, about C's age. I didn't say anything to him when I caught him, but he turned to me, exasperated and insisted, "I don't have it!" Hmmmmmm....guilty much?
I asked the boy his name and told "J" to take me to his house. We arrived at his house where his parents and 5/6 of their friends were on the porch smoking. J announced "'M' took her walkie talkie." The parents were horrified and the man who was probably the father of the offender jumped in his truck to track him down. The mom proceded to tell me how bad this was, and that it was even worse because yesterday M stole a bike! M can't be more than 12 years old, and he was off at the park about a half-mile away with 4 or 5 siblings/friends who are all considerably younger than he, and just yesterday he stole a bike?!?! This happens on our planet? How is this okay? And why steal 1/2 of a walkie talkie?
Within minutes the dad had returned with the walkie talkie and the perpetrator, who even then announced to the crowd on the porch, "I didn't take it!" The parents/adults shouted some choice words and told him to get in the car. I was relieved to be walking away with C and K's walkie talkie and a reminder of what it feels like to run so hard your lungs burn. I was more than a little proud to stride confidently back into the park waving the walkie talkie triumphantly to C and K and to boldly recount my heroic tale for Johan, who lamented missing the opportunity to chase them down.
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