When I went to the Bon Jovi concert last week, it was with a friend of mine. It was almost time for her to arrive at the house, and I ran upstairs to grab something quickly. When I came back downstairs, the kids were in the backyard. Nick was jumping on the trampoline and my friend Beth was holding Madeline.
“Nick, do you know who this is?” I asked, pointing to Beth.
He looked up and said no.
Beth laughed. Nick met her once last Spring at a farmer’s market meet-up. Madeline, who was firmly ensconced in Beth’s arms with her little legs wrapped tightly around Beth’s waist, was sleeping that day, so technically she’s never seen Beth in her life.
I tell you this to prove a point. My kids believe people are good. As they should. Nick knew she was due to arrive in a few minutes, she knocked on the door, he let her in and mere seconds later, the kids had her knee-deep in backyard fun. They basically had no idea who she was. But they still believe all people are good. Why wouldn’t they let her in? When I try to explain why we have things like locks, alarms and don’t open doors for strangers, I get quizzical looks. As in … why would someone be bad? On purpose? They don’t understand any other way. I love that about them. I love the innocence of children. And I hate when things get in the way of that.
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