No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I was at Shepler's Western Store earlier today, trying to find Roger and myself Western shirts. He needs one for his school's Western Day and we both need one to wear to an upcoming Aggie Moms Club lunch.

Why do people assume everyone in Texas owns Western wear? I've lived here all my life and I can promise you this is only the second Western shirt I've ever owned - and if I knew where the FIRST one was, I wouldn't have bought THIS one.

Anyway, I was browsing the rack of sale shirts in front of the store when a mother and grandmother entered with a little girl who appeared to be around 4 years old.

I overheard the mother scolding the little girl and telling her to stay with her and, you guessed it, it wasn't too long before you could hear the mother AND the child calling for each other from different ends of the store.

Not my problem, right? My boys are grown and gone and if they lost me in a store they'd call me on their cell phones, if they needed me.

Apparently, this BECAME my problem when I looked up and saw the little girl opening the outside doors to make her way to the parking lot.

I told her not to go out those doors and asked her if she was lost. She looked at me with a trembling lip, stuffed both hands in her mouth and promptly burst into tears.

I held out my hand and told her not to worry, that we'd find her Momma. She put her little (and really WET) hand in mine and off we went to the nice cashier who announced a Lost Child over the store's loud speaker.

In a few minutes, here comes Momma, looking seriously ticked off. I walked the little girl over to her mother and told the mother that I'd stopped her just as she was going out the store's front door.

The mother didn't seem upset, worried, or scared...just really inconvenienced. I listened to the mother scold the little girl as they walked away and I made myself this promise: It wasn't my problem, no, it definitely wasn't. But, if Momma decided to drive home her point with a few smacks, Momma and me would be headed to Fist City on the Bullet Train.

Now, where are those anti-bacterial wipes?