As I walked back to my office after a coffee break, a very young child, a little girl, sped past me on a tiny shooter. The child’s mother was quite far behind. I couldn’t see her, as she was walking under some scaffolding, but I heard her call the child’s name in an effort to get her to slow down.
The child didn’t slow down at all. The mother yelled, “Freeze!” but there was still no reaction.
As the little girl raced toward the end of the block, the mother called her name again, this time in a terrified scream. I was quite far from the child now, as I he nearly reached the entrance to my office building, so I could not see precisely where she was or how close the might have been to scooting out into traffic.
As I reached the door of my building, I heard the mother make one final, unforgettable sound, a blood-chilling shriek or terror. I hope that the child was okay. There were plenty of people on the sidewalk; hopefully, one of them intervened if the situation became dangerous. But that mother needs to get control of her kid or take the scooter away from her. I have never heard such screaming.
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