My seven-year-old son, Caleb, had already had a rough day before we entered the supermarket.
He was exhausted, overwhelmed, and started crying while I tried to manage groceries, bags, and a checkout line that barely moved.
A woman behind us kept sighing dramatically.
Then I noticed her holding up her phone.
She was filming us.
I tried to ignore her, but near the exit she finally said loudly, “People like you shouldn’t have children if you can’t control them.”
Several shoppers looked over.
I felt humiliated and angry.
I turned around, ready to answer her, when Caleb suddenly stopped crying.
His eyes widened.
“Mom,” he whispered. “That lady’s bag.”
A man walking behind the woman had quietly opened her purse and was pulling out her wallet.
I shouted.
The man immediately dropped it and ran toward the parking lot.
The woman spun around and stared at her open handbag.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she looked at Caleb.
Her face turned red.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Caleb just held my hand tighter.
As we walked away, he asked why she had been filming us.
I told him some people decide who you are after seeing only the worst five minutes of your day.
He thought about it and said, “Then she didn’t know us.”
Exactly.
She had seen a crying child and a tired mother.
She hadn’t seen the observant little boy who noticed what every calm adult around him had missed.
