Two children, old enough to walk, in
a pram
A third child playing along the pram
Two adult women, chatting furiously,
holding the pram
All returning home from a shop
Waiting at the tram stop.
One mother hands out some mini-sized
packs of biscuits to the children.
Children laugh, children open the
packs, children eat
The eldest child throws her empty
wrapper on the tram track.
Children laugh.
Mothers look. Mothers shake their
heads. Mothers continue their chat.
Not to be outdone, the second oldest
child throws his second empty wrapper too on the tram track.
It’s all a game. It’s all fun.
Mothers look. Mothers shake their
heads. Mothers continue their chat.
Standing a little way is someone
else
A stranger to them, waiting too for
the tram
Stranger looks at the children. The
children laugh back.
Stranger looks at the mothers. The mothers
glare back.
Stranger looks at the orphaned
wrappers. The wrappers stare back.
So Stranger walks down to the
wrappers,
Stranger scoops them up in her arms,
Stranger walks over to a hungry trashcan
And gently lowers the wrappers in
its mouth.
Stunned by the incident, the mothers
shake their heads.
They’re children after all. They’re going to throw things.
Here and there, everywhere! What’s her problem?
That’s the
problem, isn’t it?
Not knowing how to raise one’s kids.
Should his life be filled with fun,
With games and play and no work
done?
Is he meant to slap, to pinch, to cry,
Not learn to love, no what nor why?
Should he not meet Discipline
Or is it way too soon to begin?
When o when then do pray tell,
Will you break the magic spell,
Show him Mercy, teach him Truth,
That water’s unclear in the fountain
of youth,
When will you teach him ol’ life’s
song,
To be humble yet be strong?
Fight like a warrior, give like a
King,
Offer support for doing the hard
thing?
Will he always be too young,
And you too wise,
To teach him right from wrong,
From wrong to right?
