What better reason for Mom to face jail time than to have let her 4 year old play outside alone, 120 feet from her front door, in a gated community? “We have a CPS (Child Protective Service) case now and every time he’s not in my visual site we’re in violation,” said Sonya Hendren. [KTXL, Sacramento]
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Well, she better not sleep.
This stuff is getting ridiculous. What is the articulable danger to this child? Oh he might . . . . Whatever it is, it’s certainly less than him playing football when he’s older.
It’s not a choice I would make–putting aside the CPS danger–but it’s a choice well within the bounds of parenting.
These people actually want to put her in jail. That’s sick.
you want to really get enraged/sick to your stomach go to free range kids.com and read about the mom arrested from the fact her 8 year old step son missed the bus[she was sleeping do to being up with a sick relative and overslept]and tried to walk to school without waking her up[her 21 year old son was awake and at home at the time].
Breakdown of social ties between neighbors.
This in a gated neighborhood, where people who are afraid of other people go. Not to be neighborly, and know who’s who, and practice patenting by village.
The neighbor who called child protective services believed that somehow that was her only alternative. And she continues to justify her actions as one of necessity.
The government has us thinking they way they want. Do nothing on your own, do not talk to your neighbor, report everything to the authorities.
“Hendron remarks emotionally, ‘I breast fed for 28 months. I cloth diapered and, you know, obviously avoided helicopter parenting. I’m doing everything.'”
Yikes.
If present day busybodies had been in charge during my childhood in the 1940s and 1950s, my parents, and the parents of my playmates, would have been imprisoned for life.
When I was four, I played outside well beyond my parents’ visual oversight, usually with other neighborhood kids, sometimes alone. The other kids were also out of their parents’ sight.
When I was five, I looked forward to Saturdays. My father would give me 50 cents with instructions to walk to the store, buy myself an ice cream cone, and bring him back a pack of Camels. The store was about a mile away from my home, and I had to cross RR tracks without a guard gate to get there.
When I was six, I walked or rode my bicycle a mile or so to school every day, across the same RR tracks, sometimes alone, and sometimes with the other neighborhood kids.
Somehow, against all odds, we survived. Now our great grandchildrens’ generation has become a nation of timorous busybodies with armed enforcers, and prosecutors whose mission is imprison all parents who don’t keep their children chained to the sofa fully enclosed in government approved bubblewrap.
Yet these same busybodies worry about childhood obesity, and profess to have no clue why children don’t get enough exercise.