Making a Coward of Bobby

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 5, 1916

Making a Coward of Bobby

I MET them on the street one evening, just as it was growing dark. The father and mother were walking on ahead, rather slowly, while their small son—a child of perhaps three years—brought up the rear, toddling along as fast as his short little legs could carry him.

The father turned and called impatiently, “Hurry up, there!” and then the mother said, “Hurry up, Bobby, or we’ll go on and leave you;” but with all their urging the child kept lagging behind. Finally they stopped and waited for him to catch up.

Just then his attention was attracted by a little white kitten, sitting quietly on a doorstep; and as Bobby turned to look at it, he cried out gleefully, “O muver! see nice kitty!”

Again the father urged the child to hurry on, but the kitten proved too interesting.

“Look out, Bobby,” cried the father, “there’s a big dog coming behind you! It will get you if you don’t hurry up!”

The child gave a frightened scream, and started to run. As he glanced back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the terrible dog that was going to “get” him, he stumbled and fell—coming down with his hands and knees on the cement sidewalk.

And what do you think that foolish father and mother did? They stood there, watching the little fellow scramble to his feet, and they laughed!

I wanted to run and pick poor Bobby up, wipe away his tears, rub his bruises, and apologize for the mean trick his father had played on him. Instead, I hurried on toward home, wondering how parents could find amusement in abusing the trust of a little child by frightening him, or by lying to him, or by laughing at his misfortune. As I pondered these things, I remembered what the Great Teacher said of those who “offend one of these little ones.”—American Motherhood.