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So, I am back in the fair land of Texas, and just for yucks while my sick boy is (hopefully) napping in the guest room (we were both up most of the night because of his coughing, but my FANTASTIC husband stayed home so Javier and I could go back to sleep, only Javier didn't), I decided to check out the latest news on that fucker in Belgium who stabbed two kids and a care provider to death in a daycare and wounded ten others.
And by 'kids', I mean infants. Yeah, little babies. Not that toddlers would have been better able to defend themselves, but babies is just that much more horrifying. And apparently the guy was planning on hitting more daycares. Luckily he was caught first.
I naturally can't help but mentally put my son in these situations when I read about incomprehensible crimes like this. Maybe I shouldn't say 'naturally', but I know I'm a little nuts and have come to grips with that years ago. The idea of my boy--of anyone's child--dying in terror and pain makes me sick. I don't even want to think about what the parents of the hurt or murdered babies are going through right now.
It also occurred to me that my son's daycare doesn't have any locks on the doors. I mean, ostensibly, it doesn't need to. Every teacher knows each parent by face, and they have specific procedures in place to ensure that no child leaves with anyone they're not meant to. But that, I realized when I first saw the news item on the killings on CityPulse News back in Toronto about two weeks ago, wouldn't save anyone from, say, an insane asshole with a gun or a knife. Not that I need anything else to worry about.
Since I'd already been dipping my toes into news item hell, I (foolishly, in retrospect) started perusing the other, related articles. So I read in detail about the last hours of 'Baby Grace', who was tortured to death by her parents because she wouldn't mind her manners. She was two. My son is three and he still doesn't say 'please', or 'thank-you' all the time. Jesus.
Then I read about the man in California who killed his entire family then shot himself, because he and his wife might have been unfairly fired from their jobs. Or the other family where one of the parents shot the other and them him or herself, and left their four children to fend for themselves for days, including their nine-month old daughter. Then I read about a woman in Australia who arrived late at her son's daycare to realize the eight-month old had been left on his own, screaming in the dark. And then there was the hospital who threw out the body of a deceased newborn with the trash.
Finally, just because it didn't look like things could get any worse, I read a fun article about how it's just that much more likely that the new Hadron Collider might destroy the world.
At that point it was almost like, 'bring it on'. Except I don't want my son to die at all, let alone along with the world when it gets sucked into a black hole. I hear that kind of thing hurts.
Fun times, fun times. Remind me to never read the news again. Seriously.
And by 'kids', I mean infants. Yeah, little babies. Not that toddlers would have been better able to defend themselves, but babies is just that much more horrifying. And apparently the guy was planning on hitting more daycares. Luckily he was caught first.
I naturally can't help but mentally put my son in these situations when I read about incomprehensible crimes like this. Maybe I shouldn't say 'naturally', but I know I'm a little nuts and have come to grips with that years ago. The idea of my boy--of anyone's child--dying in terror and pain makes me sick. I don't even want to think about what the parents of the hurt or murdered babies are going through right now.
It also occurred to me that my son's daycare doesn't have any locks on the doors. I mean, ostensibly, it doesn't need to. Every teacher knows each parent by face, and they have specific procedures in place to ensure that no child leaves with anyone they're not meant to. But that, I realized when I first saw the news item on the killings on CityPulse News back in Toronto about two weeks ago, wouldn't save anyone from, say, an insane asshole with a gun or a knife. Not that I need anything else to worry about.
Since I'd already been dipping my toes into news item hell, I (foolishly, in retrospect) started perusing the other, related articles. So I read in detail about the last hours of 'Baby Grace', who was tortured to death by her parents because she wouldn't mind her manners. She was two. My son is three and he still doesn't say 'please', or 'thank-you' all the time. Jesus.
Then I read about the man in California who killed his entire family then shot himself, because he and his wife might have been unfairly fired from their jobs. Or the other family where one of the parents shot the other and them him or herself, and left their four children to fend for themselves for days, including their nine-month old daughter. Then I read about a woman in Australia who arrived late at her son's daycare to realize the eight-month old had been left on his own, screaming in the dark. And then there was the hospital who threw out the body of a deceased newborn with the trash.
Finally, just because it didn't look like things could get any worse, I read a fun article about how it's just that much more likely that the new Hadron Collider might destroy the world.
At that point it was almost like, 'bring it on'. Except I don't want my son to die at all, let alone along with the world when it gets sucked into a black hole. I hear that kind of thing hurts.
Fun times, fun times. Remind me to never read the news again. Seriously.
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