Q:
My next door neighbor and I are very good friends. Unfortunately, her oldest child, a nine-year-old boy, is a very aggressive child who routinely physically attacks his siblings, the other kids on the street, and my own children whenever our two families are together.
The other day, my eight-year-old daughter was playing alone in our backyard with a new basketball. The “bully boy” from next door came into the yard and told her he wanted to play with the ball. She told him to come back later, but he yanked it out of her hands, slamming her to the ground and stomping on her before running off. Her screams brought me running and she told me the story while sobbing hysterically. Once I calmed her down and ascertained that she was badly shaken but not seriously injured, I knocked on my neighbor’s door. I myself was shaking when I told her what happened. I knew that the situation had been dangerous, and I begged my friend to take her son for help.
She was obviously offended by this suggestion and told me that, “Kids are rough. My son asked nicely and your daughter refused to share. I say they’re both at fault and anyway, I think kids need to work these things out themselves.” Now I’m seriously at a loss. I think her son is dangerous. I’m not about to sell my house, and I really don’t want to lose my friendship with my neighbor. But how can I keep my own kids safe?
A:
Let’s address your question: “How can I keep my own kids safe?”
It may not be as complicated as you’re imagining. Suppose for a moment that a stranger came into your backyard and told your eight-year-old daughter that he wanted her ball. In this imaginary scenario, the stranger is six feet tall, 200 lbs, and male. What would you want your daughter to do? Yes. Hand over the ball.
In fact, I experienced something like this when I was a young researcher at the Department of Education. I was walking home from work carrying the finished typewritten draft of a research paper my team had been working on for over a year. I was supposed to give it a final edit. The paper was in my briefcase. Keep in mind that there was no copy of this paper — this was in the dark ages before there were computers. It was up to ME to keep that paper safe.
As I was walking, a deranged stranger came up to me asking me to give him my briefcase! In my shock and naivete, I said, “No. You don’t need it. There’s no money in it, just my research paper!” Well, the fellow threw me to the sidewalk, grabbed the breifcase, and ran off to find another victim (as I learned later when bystanders called the police to my rescue).
