I'm not a Hero

A few weeks back I was standing on the pavement near a local cafe waiting for a friend to turn up. He appears to have no sense of time. Says 30 minutes and gets there an hour later. But, I digress.

In the distance, I hear a shout, "Come here."

I turn and look. A small boy, maybe three years old, is running towards the road, his mother lagging behind. The child ignores his mother's shouts and continues towards the road.

It's a busy road. There are plenty of cars zooming past. At three years old, you don't think about such things as getting run over. But I could see the danger. To say I was concerned was an understatement. I'm not a hero, but it did occur to me that I'd have to save this kid from certain doom. And I was prepared. I was near enough to pluck him to safety if the need arose.

But, just as the child is about to reach the road, the mother shouts, "Get in this buggy and I'll give you some sweets."

The child didn't react.

He kept running.

What could I do? I had no choice.

I jumped in that buggy. I wanted the sweets.

As I said, I'm not a hero.