So today? Girl Child and Boy Child were playing "getting all of their crap out of mom's car" whilst Jason and I were doing laundry. We heard the door bang open and slam shut and really I doubt either one of us thought a thing about it until Girl Child rushed into the bedroom, wringing her hands.
(While I hate that she has to wring her hands about things, can I say I actually think it's really cute that she wrings her hands when she's worried? I've never met anyone else in real life who actually wrings their hands when they are worried. She's precious.)
"I need help," she said. "Neighbor Child asked me what rape means."
So many, many times I have felt the painful ache of being a mother. Loving someone more than life itself and having no idea how to help them. Letting your heart, your entire heart, walk around outside your body. Most of the time, being a mother is the greatest joy I have ever known. Other times? It is completely impossible.
This was one of those times.
"Why?" I asked, trying not to let my voice rise to the level of utter terror I felt in that moment.
"A boy on the railroad tracks wearing a red hood told her he was going to rape her."
Neighbor Child? Is five years old.
Jason and I exchanged a look. Before I could say another word, he was out the door.
"What did you say?" I asked her, taking her hands in mine so she would stop wringing them.
"I told her go please ask her mom," my daughter, my little daughter who is not even twelve years old said to me. "Was that okay? I didn't know what to say."
"That was okay," I assured her. "Is her mom home?"
"I think so."
"Okay, that's fine. Girl Child?"
"Do you know what rape means?"
Her face contorted. "Yes, I know what it means. And it's not funny mom. It's not a joke. I don't know why that boy would say it."
"I don't know either."
"Did daddy go to find that boy?"
"I don't know. Let's go out on the porch and see."
I don't know how we walked to the front of the house. It's probably only about a thousand feet from where we were, but it felt so much longer. I don't know how I resisted the urge to grab up my little child, my little baby girl, and hold her close to me. Promise her that I wouldn't let anyone ever hurt her.
I couldn't, though.
We were only on the porch for a moment before Jason came back down our street. He hadn't went to look for the boy. Instead, he went to Neighbor Child's home.
He didn't look happy.
"I told her dad or whoever he was what she said," he told me after Girl Child was out of earshot. "He said, 'Oh, she told me that. I didn't think nothin' of it.'"
I swear to God, I think my heart stopped for a moment.
"You mean to tell me," I hissed. "That that little child, that LITTLE CHILD, went and told that asshat that someone threatened to rape her and he thought NOTHING OF IT?"
He rolled his eyes.
"OH MY GOD JASON!"
"I know," he said, quietly. "I know."
"Her mom was just pulling in, so I told her," he assured me. "She said she'd try to figure out who it was."
My blood was still boiling though. In fact, hours have gone by and I'm still so angry I can barely see straight.
Neighbor Child's mother came down to our house a little while later and told us she had figured out who the boy was.
Probably? He's a dickless little piece of crap who gets his rocks off by scaring little girls. He's the same little douchepotato that thought it would be hilarious to tear down part of our backyard fence. You remember him? The one whose mother, when confronted by my husband about her child trespassing and destroying our property, told my husband to go f himself and then told the police officer to go f himself as well when he came to try to resolve the issue? Him.
So basically telling his mother would probably only serve to encourage the little sociopath to be even more of prickwad.
At dinner we talked to Girl Child about how proud we were of her. How she did exactly the right thing by telling her mom and dad. How if anyone ever, EVER said anything like to her she had not only our permission but blessing to beat the utter shiz out of them. Using all her ninja skills if she so choices. Hitting below the belt as much as humanly possible with no private parts off limits.
Even so. I'm mad tonight. I'm mad that rape exists. I'm even madder that a five year old girl was threatened with it. And mostly? I'm mad that even though things like this happen right here in this city I live in and some douchenozzle acts like it's "nothing". That he didn't think "nothin' of it".
How is it possible to not lose your mind when your child, your baby, comes to you and says someone threatened to hurt her? I nearly lost mine and she's not my child. Not my baby.
It is no wonder I do not sleep at night. It's no wonder.