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It was one of those mellow early-fall afternoons that demand to be embraced and savored. A perfect day to let the kids run around the park playground across the street from school and, for once, not worry about rushing them back into the drab world of homework, laundry-folding and chicken in the oven. My two wasted no time in finding friends and launching into adventures while I found a bench to bask on.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Breaking into my reverie, my daughter came running, almost tripping over the grass in her excitement. "A man just took a videotape of Tori [pseudonym] and me!" She grinned and clasped her hands together. "He says we're going to be on TV!"
A stranger videotaped my daughter? So much for a placid afternoon.
I wouldn't call myself an obsessively cautious parent. I side with the Free-Range Kids philosophy that children need a measure of independence to help them become confident, self-reliant people. I don't see the world as a cesspool of evil where villains lurk around every corner, just waiting for a mother to drop her guard for a nanosecond. Statistics show that crime is lower now than it was decades ago, when it was much more common for kids to wander their neighborhoods unsupervised. And though I live in big bad New York City, the little segment of it where we hang our hats is about as peaceful and suburbanesque as they come.
Yes, of course the bad guys are out there, and tragically, unspeakable things can and do happen to children. But what we tend to forget is that the terrifying news stories are just that -- news, brought to our attention because these things don't happen every day. We also forget that children are more likely to be kidnapped or hurt by someone they know than by a random stranger. The world grieved when little Leiby Kletzky was abducted and murdered by a mentally ill man just blocks from where his parents were waiting for him to return from his Brooklyn camp. No one batted an eye when two more New York children were killed mere weeks later -- one a young teen beaten to death on her own front porch by her stepfather, the other a baby shaken while under her parents' care.
So I try to maintain that tricky balance between realism and paranoia. I give my kids freedom to explore familiar territory like our block or the playground, and I don't dial 911 if they leave my sight for a minute or two. We've gone over the basic safety rules: never go anywhere, accept food or get into a car with someone they don't know. My son even scolds me if I strike up a conversation with a shopper: "Mom, you're talking to a stranger!"
And yet, when my daughter told me about the man with the camera, reason gave way to panic. A stranger videotaped my child!! And he did it while I sat just a stone's throw away, with my back turned. What was this person doing getting footage of 5-year-old girls? Had he touched them? Made them pose? Was he sending his footage to YouTube or to some beyond-sickening pedophile site?
Instantly, I turned into Lioness Mom. This creep wasn't going to get away with that on my watch.
My daughter's excited face fell as she saw that I wasn't as thrilled about this video incident as I was. "What did he look like? Where did he go?" I demanded.
She pointed to the bike path a few yards away. Grabbing her hand, I ran in that direction -- leaving my son under the watchful eye of parent-friends -- and soon spotted a figure walking slowly round a bend. "There he is!" she yelled.
In full frenzy mode, I sped to his side. The guy was 70 years old if he was a day, white-haired and calm, but yes, holding a video camera. Crime knows no age, I guess. "Excuse me!" I said. No response. "EXCUSE ME, SIR!"
Finally, he turned in my direction and smiled. What?! How dare he be pleasant at a time like this?
"Did you just take a video of my daughter?" I demanded.
He smiled again. His accent sounded Slavic. "No English. Sorry."
I pointed to his camera and then to my girl, who by now
