I have this weird memory of going into the women’s bathroom at some restaurant – and you know, I don’t even remember which one it was, even though it was pretty recent, Luigi’s maybe but I’m not sure – and there was a lady there changing her kid. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old. I never can tell these things. I just saw these bare little legs in the air. Even just writing those words punches me in the chest with how that made me feel. That kid was so helpless. Couldn’t even change his or her own diaper. Let’s just say it was a he. He went wherever his parents decided to take him, wore anything they thought was okay. Worse than that, he couldn’t understand when they treated him wrongly, if they did, and I don’t know, because I peed quickly and washed my hands and left, all before she finished doing up his onesie.
I feel for kids even if they don’t know enough to feel for themselves.