She was proably happy, once

She was probably happy, once. I was at my son's football practice the other day when I first saw her. The two teams were having a practice game and I sat next to her. When I sat down in my lawn chair, she was sitting with her two children, a boy of about 5 and a girl about 3. The boy was crying about wanting her to play with him. Admittedly, he was being a little bratty, the way kids get when they need attention at all costs.

I think she must have been pretty, but her big black sunglasses covered most of her upper face. She was a little overweight, but not fat. I imagine when she was in high school she must have smiled more. This day there was only a scowl, with her pretty lips sticking out in frustration.

Her son cried and cried and she was getting very frustrated. She told him in very angry tones that he could not sit on her lap, he could not look at her cell phone, and that he had to just sit there. A few times he half-heartily slapped at his sister, who was allowed to sit on her mom's lap, and was severely reprimanded for this in very ugly way. The little sister had visual pleasure in her eyes. As the scene unfolded, it seemed that I could not look away.

At some point, the dad showed up, and then it got worse. The kids started to fight even more with dad and mom trying to ignore them. It was very obvious to me that they just wanted someone to talk to them and be kind. But who am I, but the guy sitting on the lawn chair next to them trying to pretend I wasn't watching from under my sunglasses. At one point, the boy rudely demanded to be taking to the bathroom, and the dad did so under insults and grunts. When they returned, the sister started to act up and that's when the mom lost it. Like I said, she must have been a happy person, once.

As the crying little girl tried over and over again to climb on mom's lap, she was physically pushed off with a very stern "No!". This woman became very ugly and continued to shove her crying child down on the ground. Then she started to tell the little girl, "Don't touch me." After repeating this a number of times, while shoving her to the ground, her face became more ugly. The dad (the great schmuck) did nothing at all. Of course, the little boy was now enjoying all the negative attention his sister was getting.

Eventually, the mom got up so the girl could sit on the chair. What she failed to realize was that the girl didn't want the chair at all, but wanted a mom to pay her some attention and maybe a little kindness. Mom was now standing and the girl continued to cry and approach mom. Mom ended up making statements like, "Listen to me. Listen to me. I am tired of you. Do not touch me. Do not even touch me. If you touch me one more time I am taking you to the car." A few minutes of this (and my stomach lurching), the girl was taken to the car. I could not watch my son playing in the gameat all, but turned around and followed them across the grass and around the corner. I was scared to death she was going to hit the girl. Again, the oaf dad did nothing at all, despite the public spectacle and the obvious need of his wife.

What kills me is that I knew I could help. I would have happily taken either child and held them, talked with them, listened to them. I kept thinking of how much I wanted to tell mom, "I think I have the patience right now. Can I please help. I think I know what they need. And we really don't need to do this "Don't touch me" thing. We don't need to hurt them." I ached, literally ached, because of this. But what could I have done, really. If I said what I wanted to say, I would have be called a pervert. But really I just ached for these little ones. Much like her mom, I imagined this little girl being happy, once.