God Gave to You

It's interesting to me how we revisit our parents upon our children, sometimes accidentally and/or incidentally. I was stopping at the local grocery, whose name is the non-gerund form of that word plus shop. I park wherever there is a spot, and yes, I have a handicap placard that I use to good effect as circumstances permit. 

I don't bother to circle the lot looking for a spot-do you know people like that? If they have a passenger I'll bet they're tempted to have them bail out, tuck and roll and stand in front of the sliding doors holding them wide open to see if the vehicle will pass through them into the store. That would be cool, would it not?

A mom and a small child of three, maybe four, I'm not really sure (I used to be an expert on small children, being in the biz and having two myself and all, but those days are decades ago) but I think he was a boy, were heading towards the entrance.

The mom seemed to be going over her shopping list in her head while he was skittering to keep up with her. Our moms did it to us--they are holding the child's left hand with their right hand. Due to manufacturing difficulties, the child's hand and arm come just barely to the top of his head--Mom's hand and arm reach only to mid-thigh so one of the two is on tiptoes at high speed where ever we go.

I hailed the woman and pushed a cart from the corral towards her and offered it to her for the child. She glared for just a moment and then relented as she picked him up and put him in the seat and, I watched, buckled him in. Not sure what she was glaring about though I get that look a lot so I suspect it has something to do with my face. No matter as it's not my point.

This is: In twenty years, when you see a young man walking down the street NOT dragging his left hand on the ground, that's the toddler I helped out. Go ahead and wave; he'll be able to wave back, and both arms will be the same length.
-bill kenny