Why I let a stranger yell at my child...

First off... let me start by saying that my husband Kevin and my best friend Martha are my everyday heroes. Regardless of whether what they did was their "natural instinct" to try to help or not. They did. So the prelude to this story is this:

Saturday afternoon, we went to our local Education in the Park festivities. Our daughter, Laurel, is in a school production and she was with her theatre troupe performing a few songs from their play that will be showing in May. It was blistering, sweltering hot that day, and sitting under the shaded canopy didn't make it any cooler in my opinion. Their performance was the last set on that stage (thank goodness) and as everyone started filing out and leaving, you find you have the occasional group of 3-4 gabbing parents talking. I was showing off Paisley to one off the parents who'd last seen me when I was pregnant. I wandered over to where Kev was putting Ella in the stroller and Martha was talking to the kids and almost as a unit, we looked over at an elderly gentleman, who, minutes before had been standing, but was now hunched over. Without a word of communication, aside from, "Is he okay?" - both Kevin and Martha jumped to their feet and rushed over to this man.

We didn't know him, and obviously, several other people didn't either...as they scurried to the winds as quick as can be. There's no blame there. I guess for some that instinct to help just isn't ingrained in you. I'm grateful to be surrounded by people where the opposite is the standard though. I'm still holding Paisley on my hip, the girls have taken the man's granddaughter (or great?) to the Crayola tent a few tents over, to color, and I'm moving chairs to clear the area and getting water. Another lady calls for a medic. It's all a matter of minutes lapsing, and a blur of separate entities doing what they know how to do as best as they can.

And then I look over to the stroller and I notice something that stands out with appalling clarity. It's empty. Where has Ella gone? I scream out Laurel's name, and I guess by the tone of my voice, it signifies to Kev that I'm upset, but I wave him off, because... he's busy helping to save this man's life. But my heart is racing as I flag down an event worker and inform both her and Laurel and Emily all at the same time that my little girl is missing. I'm bumbling through an explanation of what she's wearing... blue jean shorts with green threads. I don't know what the green threads have to do with it, but I repeated it several times over. I did the frantic rushed gaze through the crowd, running from bounce house to bounce house. Stopping at the sno-cone tent to see if she managed to sneak a 2nd cone in, despite me saying no. The lady on the golf cart drives up to me a few minutes later, empty seat beside her, asking me something. But all I saw was the empty seat and so I didn't hear what she was saying. Finally she says, "Ma'am, is that your little girl?!" and I look, but no... I told her she was THREE, that is obviously like a 1 or MAYBE 2 year old. ... and then the adult moves out of the way and I see a man holding her hand helping her to find me. I come running up, and he says, "Are you her Mommy?" and before I can answer, he says to Ella, "Is this your Mommy?" and she says yes, and hugs my leg. And he pries her from my leg, and proceeds to yell and lecture her. And I let him.

That's right. I let this stranger yell at my child. Because EVERY THING HE SAID WAS TRUE. It was everything I was going to say. And it probably meant more coming from him.

He told her how dangerous it was and to NEVER run away from Mommy. And to NEVER slip out of your stroller (mind you she unbuckled herself not an hour later and tried to slip out...) and he went on and on, and she cried and then my 3 year old said, "I understand" and he stood up and hugged me. I didn't catch his name. In a lineup, I'd never be able to pick him out. But I'll be forever grateful. I vaguely recall him mumbling that he has a little girl too and he could only imagine my fear.

There's no real moral to this. I let a stranger yell at my child because it was important that someone impart how scary this could have really been. My husband and my best friend helped save that man's life. Not through any procedure, but because they cared and showed compassion and jumped in to help. He may have had a heat stroke, or a heart attack, who knows, we let the professionals take over when they got there. Our day had a happy ending, but it could have ended so much differently. I hope you understand.