Yesterday I had to run to the post office.
On my way there, I stopped at a red light where a number of folks were crossing the street in the crosswalk. One of these was a little boy, who looked to be about 8 or 9, crossing with his backpack on his back on his small shoulders. As he crossed, he looked up to see that a bus was approaching the crosswalk that he was in. I too noticed the bus, and noticed, as this little boy did, that the bus looked to be going really fast, almost as if it wasn't going to stop at the red light. He continued to cross, but kept his eyes on that bus, all the while I am sure realizing that if it didn't stop, there was absolutely no where for him to go.
I felt so badly for him! His little face looked so nervous, and I felt nervous for him too! What if this crazy bus driver didn't stop and just plowed right into his little body?
But the bus did slow down and came to a stop before it hit the crosswalk. Slightly sweating myself, I started thinking about my own kids and how scary that would be if it happened to them.
I looked at the little boy who was still crossing the street with his eyes on the bus. And when the bus stopped, he stopped, put his tiny little hands out to the side and yelled:
"What the fuck!"
and continued walking.
Suddenly I didn't feel badly for him anymore. Brat.