What's Your Name Little Girl?

It was 4 o'clock and I needed a nap. My eyelids were heavy; we had been at the dentist's office for a triple appointment since 1:30.

And we were cleaning up to be ready for guests for dinner this evening. Fifi is such a huge help in those moments. It was a long time coming, but what a blessing to have an 11-year-old girl who loves the art of home economics!

As much as I wanted to lay down on the couch and sleep for 15 minutes or an hour, I had one more errand to run. One that I had put off for at least a week -- maybe two.

We all loaded up and headed out. The girls actually like this errand, so that helps get everyone into the car in a quick and efficient manner. When we got there, we went straight for our favorite section -- the children's section -- and began shopping.

Cuddlebug brought me something from her wish list to consider, and as I did, another little girl walked up and started talking to my baby. Cuddlebug is painfully shy in moments like this, and so the little girl soon skipped off and found Dumpling on the next aisle over. I'm sure they were fast friends.

I walked 15 feet away to where Fifi was, and began to shop with her when I heard some young people about her same age carrying on in a way that reminded me why I homeschool. One of the children had his private music system up loud enough for everyone in the immediate area to be assaulted by his rap and rock "music." And the boys were talking about spying on the girls' sports team's stretching exercises -- I'll leave that one to the imagination.

I only wish these boys would have allowed the same blank space in the conversation for my daughter's benefit. Fifi's innocents is slipping away -- being stolen away by children whose parents only think they know where their children are.

So, I'd had enough. I went to a manager and asked if there was any code of conduct at all for this establishment. Loud music? Bad language? Loitering? How about that near-to-groping going on with the pubescents over there?

I was assured that if the music was loud enough, or the language bad enough, it could be dealt with. But..."bad enough" is so subjective. In the end, I was trying to impress some sense of civility upon a belligerent 25 year old with obvious authority issues. So, I thanked her, walked away and found a different manager -- one who was at least voting age during the Gulf War -- and asked the same question. She was gracious and apologetic, but in the end, acknowledged her lack of power to do anything.

As this employee was sweetly commiserating with me, my three girls gathered 'round from their scattered corners 30 feet away, and were waiting patiently to tell me something. Dumpling was poking my arm a little, which is out of character for her; she's old enough to know better. A couple of seconds later, Fifi interrupted me to urge my attention toward whatever it was that Dumpling had to say.

Dumpling whispered. I hid my alarm. I questioned. She answered. I questioned some more.

Those pubescent, groping boys I had noticed a few moments earlier with their girlfriends had approached Dumpling and Cuddlebug and asked them their names.

Approached them. Sought them out.

Two 14-year-old boys went to a wide-open corner of the establishment that is specifically designed for toddlers and children with furniture to scale and murals on the wall, and asked. my. daughters. their. names. What could they possibly have wanted with my 4 and 6-year-olds?

14. 6.

I'm told that the boys backed off in a huff when Dumpling elbowed Cuddlebug as she seemed to consider answering the boys' question. But they did not answer.

After establishing with Dumpling that these boys did not touch either her or her sister, we finished our errand and got ready to leave.

And then I saw them. "Is that them? Those two right there?"

"Uh-hum."

And with that I left Fifi to finish the transaction while I chased the long-haired, skateboard-carrying budding pedophiles (Fifi's description) out the door.

"Excuse me, boys?"

"Yeah."

"What is it that you could have possibly wanted to know from my girls?"

*incoherent mumbling, saying nothing at all*

"Haven't your parents ever taught you that you ought never to approach very young girls like that in public? You scared them half to death!"

"Oh. Sorry. I hadn't thought of that."

"Well think of it."

I was so seething mad. I'm still seething mad.

Tomorrow, I will be composing a letter to my congressman because all of this:

the loitering,
the loud music,
the bad language,
the uninhibited storytelling,
the public display of affection amongst teens,
the approaching of my young daughters --

all of this behavior played out in my neighborhood library -- in the children's wing.