When I was a kid, my parents taught me not to talk to strangers. They said that if someone approached me, and I didn’t know who they were, that I should run away. They said it didn’t matter if it was an adult, someone that looked like an authority, like a doctor or fireman, or even someone in a police uniform. If I didn’t know them, I was not to speak with them, and if they tried to get me to go with them I should just run away and yell for help. They also told me that if something ever happened to them and there was an emergency that a family member would come and get us, not a stranger.
I remembered their words as a kid, even though I really didn’t see the potential for danger. I lived in a quiet suburb, on a cul de sac with very little traffic, where everyone knew everyone else, and nothing seriously bad ever happened – unless of course you kicked the soccer ball on the DeCellis’s yard – then all hell broke loose.
So what did I do the first time someone pulled their car up next to me and my friends walking home from middle school one day? I talked to them, of course.
It was an old, bald guy (what I though was old at that time was probably around 30) who stopped his car and asked us for directions. A few of us went up to the passenger side window, and when we got there, we could see the man was wearing nothing from the waste down. I remember some laughing, and there might have been some pointing too, but whatever it was must have surprised the guy because he just drove off and never came back.
And that’s the last time I remember thinking about not talking to strangers. That is, until this past weekend.
It was late in the day and my wife was running some errands, so I took the little one to the local park for a few minutes before dinner time. The place was practically deserted, there was only one other woman there. She was in her mid fifties, and had a weathered look to her, like she smoked 2 packs a day since she was 12 years old. I thought maybe she was a nanny, because she was taking care of 5 kids, all boys maybe four or five years old. They were running around the swing set playing with remote control cars.
I took my daughter out of the car seat and headed toward the swing set. The lady beat me there, herded her kids, and tugged them away . I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I figured, she’s got 5 kids, probably just trying to keep them all in the same place.
We played on the swings for a few minutes, then went down by the lake, ran around in the field, and then headed back to the swing set for a few pushes before going home. This time, she was apparently unable to control all her kids, because two of them had steered their remote control cars within inches of me and my daughter. I love remote control cars, so I laughed at the kids and they smiled back. The lady hadn’t noticed it though, because she was busy corralling the other three kids about 100 feet away. But when she turned around and saw how close they were to us, she flipped out.
Out of nowhere the lady started yelling at the top of her lungs “STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER DANGER!” The boys closest to me just stopped in their tracks. They did not move a muscle, except to register fear on their faces. The other boys sat down on the playground and looked really confused.
I was confused too. I looked around to see what was going on. I thought a rabid bear had wandered out of the woods, or considering the way the lady was yelling, you would have thought it was Jason or Freddie Kruger on the loose. But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary – no skeevy pervs, no tinted window vans, nothing. When I turned back toward the woman I noticed she was running toward me. If I didn’t have my daughter in my arms I would have gotten down into the karate kid crane stance and prepared for battle.
She closed the distance fast, the whole time yelling “STRANGER DANGER” at the top of her lungs. When she finally did arrive at the other two boys just a few feet away from me, she grabbed them by the arms and yanked them away to safety. They didn’t even stop to pickup their cars. She just left the toys there and ran away, dragging them behind her.
I scooped up my daughter, who was crying at that point, hopped into the car and drove home. I had never before heard the term “stranger danger,” and didn’t really know what to think of it. I also never thought I would be the “stranger” in any scenario. Plus, who’s afraid of a devilishly handsome man with a cute as a button one year old baby girl?
When I got home I talked with my wife about the crazy lady and we pondered the appropriate time to start teaching our daughter about “stranger danger.” Right now she babbles just a few words, and I’m not sure she’d understand the concept of “strangers.” Heck, she’s just starting to get used to some of my own family members.
I certainly don’t want my kids to grow up afraid to talk to people, or to be social rejects, but I’m a realist, and understand that there are crazy people in our world who take kids and do horrible things to them. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing my daughter like that, and wonder whether it’s better (and safer) to be over protective.
I just don’t know.
So I ask you, my readers.
Have you run into any stranger danger situations? What is your advice for teaching your child about strangers? I’m not trolling for comments here. I seriously need advice, because this stranger danger thing is freaking me out.
