Jaywalkers

“Bob, hold my hand. Let’s run for it.”

“But Mom, this is jaywalking. Isn’t this jaywalking?”

“It’s okay, we’ve got time. Let’s go.”

We stepped out between two parked cars and hand in hand, ran across the street. A woman came around the corner behind us as we reached the curb.

“Oh, please don’t do that you two!”

It was Lillian, the crossing guard who worked the front of the elementary school. She was on her way to work, stop sign in one hand, her tiny dog Candy in the other. Lillian has worked the L-shaped double cross walk in front of the school for more than ten years. When Lillian calls in sick, they don’t replace her with another crossing guard, the replace her with a police officer. Sometimes two.

“Seeing you cut the block like that just stops my heart. Cars can come zipping around the corner and before you know it, a tragedy happens. Always cross at the cross walk. Please don’t do that again!”

“See, Mom? I told you!” Bob said, loud enough for Lillian to hear.

“Your boy knows the rules! Listen to him!”

“You are totally busted, Mom.”

“I am. We won’t do that again.”

Since then, each time we drive past the area where the jaywalking incident occurred, Bob feels the need to remind me.

“Remember when you got so busted for jaywalking by Miss Lillian and you put me in all of the danger?”

“Yes, Bob. It won’t happen again.”

It won’t happen again, Miss Lillian. It won’t happen again.