An Open Letter to Lenore Skenazy

Dear Lenore, 


You know I'm a huge fan of your humor, good sense, and recommendation that we should not be anxious as parents, but give our children freedom to grow up and explore the world rather than hovering over them and keeping them "bubble-wrapped" throughout their childhoods.


Well, I just wanted to report that despite a bit of a scare this week, I remain faithful to your free range philosophy.


Long story short (or long story long, we'll see): 


On Monday my daughters and their friend, (girls are ages 8, 10 and 10), walked to school as they do almost every day of the school year. It's about a 10-15 minute walk for them and there are crossing guards posted at busy intersections. On Monday morning, a few blocks from our house, a man slowed his car, pulled to the side of the road, and tried to engage them in conversation.  He had what looked to my older daughter to be a "naked baby doll" on his lap.  Apparently my girls ignored him, went on down the street, mentioned to the crossing guard that someone had said hello to them, and forgot about it.  


After school, they walked home. We went to their brother's cross country meet, had a relaxed dinner, and then at about 8 p.m., I tucked them into their beds. A bit later, my older daughter came into my room. "Oh.  I forgot to tell you something," she said.  "About how a stranger pulled over and talked to us on the way to school."


My heart froze in my chest. A montage of news clips started playing like a rapid-fire slide-show in my mind. Men in orange prison jumpsuits being ushered into police vans. Children's faces on milk cartons.  Amber Alerts. I even flashed on Hannibal Lector. And his fava bean scene. (You might not want to click on that.) 


I called both daughters into the room, sat them on the bed, and asked them to tell me everything they remembered.  Nothing had happened really, they said, other than he greeted them. My older daughter said that the naked baby doll "creeped her out."  


I put them back to bed, commended them for not going near his car or talking with him, and wrote a short email to their school principal.  I didn't want to seem hysterical and maybe she already knew about this from the crossing guard, but I thought I'd let her know what the girls said. Over the past few years, we've received several automated messages from our school district reporting that a child had been approached or chased, and, once, even pulled off a bike by a stranger.  So I thought she'd like to know. (I hoped I wasn't wasting her time.)


The next morning the principal called to ask if I could come to the school and sit with my daughters as they, separately, gave reports to a police detective.  It surprised me how radically parts of the three girls' stories varied.  From the color of the car to the presence of other vehicles on the road and even to the race of the man, the girls remembered things differently from each other. But a few of the things they mentioned piqued the detective's interest and got him thinking.  The next day he came to the school with photos for the girls to examine.  My younger daughter looked at the faces and shrugged. "Nope.  I don't see him," she said.  


My older daughter came into the room next and immediately pointed out one of the men.  She recognized his ears.  And the way his eyes were. The detective asked her to circle his picture and initial and date it.  She did, and then trotted back to class.


As soon as she was out of earshot, I asked the detective if she had identified the person he'd thought she would.  He said yes, and then confirmed that the person has been seen with toys on his lap and in other peculiar settings.  He's been arrested three times for being "where he shouldn't be" and trying to observe women.  Even my daughter's spot-on description of his accent was correct.  


And my younger daughter's remark that the man looked like Mike Ditka was accurate, too.  (They just watched Kicking and Screaming last weekend -- in the movie Mike Ditka plays...Mike Ditka.) Presumably, this particular person won't be approaching little girls any longer. This week, as police department press releases have circulated and automated calls have come from the school about this "incident," the fact that it was my daughters involved has trickled out a bit. 


You'll be glad to know I've been fighting the good fight when people ask me about this. When parents say, "But you won't let them walk to school from now on, right?" I tell them of course they'll still walk to school.  I tell them the neighborhood is safe (seriously Lenore, it's like Mayberry around here) and that I was proud of the girls for doing as they have been taught and getting away, not engaging with someone they didn't know in a car, and for telling an adult. Most of all, I've told them always to follow their hunches.  That my older daughter felt "creeped out" matters, I told her. Follow your intuition.


I've been directing people to websites that give accurate descriptions of the number of abductions that take place every year...not the ones that quote mind-blowing statistics, such as the famously overused and inaccurate 50,000 "missing children" a year. This site is a good one, I think. I know the number of actual abductions is very low. (Even one missing child is, of course, far too many to tolerate.) Some have wandered off and are found later that day or some are with a parent who has not been granted guardianship and so, in frustration or anger or rebellion to the law, has kidnapped his or her own child.


You know what's been great this week, though?  Seeing how these three little girls gave reports, were taken very seriously, and that everyone from neighbors to police officers to school faculty are interested in listening to them and protecting them.  I truly was filled with a sort of unexpected patriotism, glad to see that girls are treated with such respect and dignity.  We both know that's not true everywhere in the world.


And I have to admit when I heard my older daughter's incredibly detailed report, I wondered whether it could all be true. She's not given to fantasy or lying, but is a dramatic, imaginative girl.  (Really?  A naked baby doll?) But, as we've learned, her description of the man was correct, down to the accent she identified.


People have also come out of the woodwork, telling me stories about things that happened in their childhoods.  Men exposing themselves to friends when they were little girls and incidents such as that.  For some, these left lasting scars. So all this isn't a brand-new, all pervasive situation.  It's just, sadly, something that happens sometimes. 


Funny, when I was in about second or third grade, my friend Beth and I walked past a big ranch house with a huge front window and a man exposed himself. We ran home, told her parents, and found ourselves in the police department that day saying what we'd seen.  I didn't feel traumatized by it but at my age just thought that was an extremely silly thing that he did. 


Happily, my girls aren't privy to the reasons adults have taken this so seriously. They shrug, think it's odd.


On Wednesday, I sat beside one of my friends at our sons' soccer game.  She is one of a handful of my friends who are particularly gifted with common sense. I'll call her Susan...because, you see, her name is Susan. She asked me how I was and I said, "Well, actually it's been a bit of a week."  She, jokingly, said, "Don't tell me:  It was your girls who saw that weirdo with the baby doll." And I said, "Well, actually, yes."  She did a "GET OUT" (hat tip to Elaine Benes) and then when she believed me, asked about what happened.  


"Weird," she said.  "What an anomaly."


(You'd like her Lenore.)


So there you are.  


Best wishes and stayin' sane in the suburbs,


Jennifer Grant