Walking through a Walmart parking lot, I was surprised when a toddler shot past me. I looked to see where he came from and spotted his mother, halfway down the aisle of cars, yelling at him to stop.
He was laughing and giggling, barreling full-speed ahead toward the crosswalk. A large truck driving parallel to the store was approaching the crosswalk. There was no way the driver could see what or who was about to dart into his path.
I was ahead of the mom, but nowhere close to arm’s reach. The mother was yelling for the boy to stop. I yelled for the truck to stop — as though someone in a truck with windows rolled up could hear.