Hello again! An update. Francine (2.5 yrs old) was dropped off at my place last night after a week of bronchitis, vomiting and diarrhea. For this she had taken strong antibiotics and it left her with a case of bad nappy rash. So Nanna was the preferable place for her to be plonked. What Nanna worth her salt would ever say "No" - ?
Today I took the little mite (her weight has dropped to 11.46kg) to the clinic. There she amazed me by sitting quietly waiting - and waiting, and waiting.
We waited for three hours!! If she had been restless I would have had to leave long before that time. I was duly impressed by her self control. I was having trouble containing my own waiting for so long.
As we waited, a mother came in with a toddler clinging to her skirt and crying. A cute little boy in denim clothing. To my astonishment, she pulled his hand firmly away and carried on walking to her seat where she picked him up and almost threw him onto the chair next to her. He was only about 18 months of age. After a few minutes, she got up, pulled him up and whacked him once but very hard on his bottom. He almost fell with the intensity of the smack. The lady sitting next to me was horrified and so was I. Shocked, she turned to me and said "Any other mother would have picked him up and pacified him!" and I added "Yes, all he needs is some love and assurance - he is probably ill or petrified of this place". Francine-Rose looked on mortified. She crept onto my lap.
I felt a fury rise inside me as I heard the toddler yelling all the way down the passage. Again, I told myself "Who will speak up for a little child?"
I had this vivid image of myself grabbing that mother from behind and pulling her around to ask what she thought she was doing. And another image quickly followed of her giving me a resounding slap and asking what business it was of mine, then disappearing with the poor little fellow without getting any medical treatment. Instead, I sat there wondering what I should do.
Before I could decide, the mother returned and the little boy was fast asleep in her arms. She sat down and fell asleep herself. I was still shocked at her former behaviour. As I looked at her, one of the doctors walked by and stopped in front of her. "How are you doing sweetie?" she asked the mother. She responded by telling her she felt like death.
I sat back trying to feel sorry for her. I thought back to the time I had little children and tried to remember how they can drive you to frustration. I tried to have mercy. She could have AIDS or TB. She could have some other terminal illness - these were my thoughts.
But nothing could overcome the feeling of repulsion I felt for this large woman bearing down on that tiny little boy who was shuddering with unshed sobs as he slept in her lap.
Eventually, when it was time to take Francine into the doctor, I opened up and I reported her to the doc. "Not much we can do. Parents take offence when you try to interfere", the doctor said.
I walked off with Francine-Rose and her meds in her push-chair. I had promised her a treat. We went off to get it. And as I walked I thought - if that was another adult and he had been assaulted in the same way - she could have found herself in trouble.
Is there ever an excuse for venting your anger on a defenceless child?
I think not.
This entry is dedicated to all little children everywhere who are abused either physically or emotionally.
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