I am now a Bad Mother: I've stopped walking my kid to the bus stop.
After all, it's what, 50 yards from my front door? Maybe less (I am
awful at estimating distances)? And we live in a small townhouse
complex that was dropped down in the middle of a cornfield in rural
eastern Pennsylvania. So it's not exactly a high-crime area, nor is it
full of dark corners where amorphous "bad people" can hide and whisk
away unsuspecting kids as they wait for the bus in broad daylight. So
why is it that Judgy McJudgerson, aka My Lovely Neighbor, has appointed
herself Watcher of My Daughter and never fails to inform me that she
walks that 50 yards behind my daughter every day extra-slowly so "she
won't feel alone"?
What gives other parents the feeling they have a right to step in where they think we lack?
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