What To Do?
That is what the kids were asking. ON THEIR FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION. It is going to be a long one, I say.
That is also what I was asking, yesterday, at the library. When we all came out of the building, we noticed a car pull up along side of us. A mom and her child got out, locked up, and headed into the library. Once I got everyone all settled in their seats and all library books in the front, I went ahead and turned to put my seat belt on. When I turned my head, I noticed something about the car that had pulled up next to us.
There was a child sleeping inside of it! He wasn't an infant, but he was still in the same size seat that Melina uses. In my estimation, he looked to be about 2 or so. It wasn't an absolutely hot day, but when we came out of the library, our car was plenty hot from having the sun streaming on it. I took another glance, just to be sure I was actually seeing a child inside of a car. Haven't we all heard the horror stories about this?!?
I checked the car windows -- the front one was down about 3/4 of an inch. Not enough, in my opinion. I knew the car was locked, so there I was, in the moment. What to do? Do I go find the lady? Do I wait for her to come back?
My common sense won out. I opened both side doors of the minivan and the front window for the kids, so they got a pretty decent breeze coming through. It told them where I was headed (I had parked in a spot that I'd be able to see them pretty clearly, at least most of the time, and the girls are pretty responsible at this point with respect to dangers and all of that). I then headed back into the library.
The lady was at the reserve desk. Her daughter was talking to the librarian. The conversation was stilted, to say the least.
I left after that, hopped in the car, and waited until she came out. I could tell that she was aggravated by my boldness. Perhaps she was just embarrassed. I don't know. I can only imagine that she might feel as though some stranger was trying to tell her how to parent, and I can appreciate not wanting to feel that way. What I do know is that I couldn't live with myself knowing that a child was inside a hot car on a summer day, no matter how short of a time the lady had planned on being inside.
That is also what I was asking, yesterday, at the library. When we all came out of the building, we noticed a car pull up along side of us. A mom and her child got out, locked up, and headed into the library. Once I got everyone all settled in their seats and all library books in the front, I went ahead and turned to put my seat belt on. When I turned my head, I noticed something about the car that had pulled up next to us.
There was a child sleeping inside of it! He wasn't an infant, but he was still in the same size seat that Melina uses. In my estimation, he looked to be about 2 or so. It wasn't an absolutely hot day, but when we came out of the library, our car was plenty hot from having the sun streaming on it. I took another glance, just to be sure I was actually seeing a child inside of a car. Haven't we all heard the horror stories about this?!?
I checked the car windows -- the front one was down about 3/4 of an inch. Not enough, in my opinion. I knew the car was locked, so there I was, in the moment. What to do? Do I go find the lady? Do I wait for her to come back?
My common sense won out. I opened both side doors of the minivan and the front window for the kids, so they got a pretty decent breeze coming through. It told them where I was headed (I had parked in a spot that I'd be able to see them pretty clearly, at least most of the time, and the girls are pretty responsible at this point with respect to dangers and all of that). I then headed back into the library.
The lady was at the reserve desk. Her daughter was talking to the librarian. The conversation was stilted, to say the least.
Me: Excuse me. Would you like for me to open your car door and stay with your son while he sleeps?
Her: I was just going to be in here for a minute. My daughter wants to sign up for the summer book club.
Me: I know. I would be happy to sit with him. It is quite warm in a closed car.
Her: No, it's okay. [Said in an annoyed tone.]
Me: Okay.
I left after that, hopped in the car, and waited until she came out. I could tell that she was aggravated by my boldness. Perhaps she was just embarrassed. I don't know. I can only imagine that she might feel as though some stranger was trying to tell her how to parent, and I can appreciate not wanting to feel that way. What I do know is that I couldn't live with myself knowing that a child was inside a hot car on a summer day, no matter how short of a time the lady had planned on being inside.
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