He’s Not Naïve. He’s Good.

The officer was young and kind. He implied our son was naïve. He probably thought we were dense for raising our son to expect goodness and honesty from others. It kind of hurt; but then again, his child is only three.

Maybe he saw our nice house in our nice neighborhood and assumed our nice 14-year-old boy should know better than to trust an adult. A “nice” adult interested in video games at our weekend garage sale. Who encouraged our son, when we were busy with other customers, to go inside and gather electronics not displayed for sale then offered $60 when my son requested, with no time to prepare, $100. The man said “$65.” My flustered son said, “OK.” The man walked away with over $400 worth of merchandise. I believe he knew that. I believe he knew better than to ask a minor child to go into the house and retrieve additional items for sale, without parental consent, then offer one sixth of their value.

Sixty-five dollars, to a boy who gets no allowance but is paid $8 to mow the yard, is a lot of money. Sixty-five dollars, to a boy who gets straight A's but doesn't get paid for his grades, is a lot of money. Sixty-five dollars, to a boy who must put half of everything he earns into savings, is a lot of money. A 14-year-old should've known better, we were told. But then again, his child is only three. A three-year-old would trade a small dime for a bigger nickel.

I don't fault his judgement, for a father of a three-year-old hasn't yet

&#8226 Sent a child to school in a world vastly different from our own childhoods;

&#8226 Stood at the corner bus stop and seen “responsible adults” speeding down a blind hill almost hit his children;

&#8226 Heard his child get off the bus and say, “Mommy, some man in a car followed us and tried to pick us up.”

&#8226 Had his child open the sports section, check on his favorite baseball team and ask, “Mommy, what does 'XXX-rated' mean?”

&#8226 (I assume) seen his child throw his arms around the motionless four-legged figure that used to be his constant companion and playmate, and sob uncontrollably into its fur, “You were my best friend.”

&#8226 Had to deal with a close-minded, cowardly school principal who refused to expel or even punish the school bully who bloodied his son's face, because it took place at an “after hours” dance in the school gymnasium;

&#8226 Had to deal with a child afraid to go to the bathroom at school because the bully might be in there waiting;

&#8226 Had a child sob and cling to him at the summer camp that he begged to attend and beg to come home;

&#8226 Had to take his child to the funeral of a classmate, murdered by the teenager across the street;

&#8226 Have his child be the target of slander and accused of illegal activities via an Internet chat room or Instant Messaging;

&#8226 Had to have “The Talk”;

&#8226 Have his child come home from school and cry, “I was the last one picked.” or “I didn't make the team.” or “No one sat with me at lunch.” or “She said I couldn't be part of their group anymore.”

So that officer and customer can think my son is naïve. I'd rather he, and all children, retain some naïveté and ability to trust…rather than living in total fear of the world around them or stagnated by painful childhood memories.

I'd rather my son be a child while there's still time.

Karen Rinehart is a magazine humor columnist, public speaker and the creator of The Bus Stop Mommies, a newspaper. She is also author of Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life. You can read more of her work at karenrinehart.net. Karen lives in Concord, North Carolina with her two kids, one husband and goofball dog, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dog at home.) She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan and England.