Right now, I suspect a mother is out there talking about me.

I say that, because I am about to talk about her.

I was at a play area with my kids. One of those enclosed, foam-object/spongy-floored deals, where kids can fall and bounce to their heart’s delight. On this particular day, it was relatively crowded. Below zero wind-chills spanned across a decent swath of the U.S., and such temperatures tend to force people inside.

My three-year-old daughter was running around; my one-year-old son was climbing all over me. We had been in the room ten minutes, everyone playing amicably, when I heard my daughter forcefully shouting, “No! I don’t like that!”

I looked up to see her yelling at a boy a little above her age. My daughter had her scolding face on, something she wears when irritated by her younger brother, the dog, or an inanimate object that won’t bend to her will. The two children were about four feet apart, and he was roaring at her playfully. I’m not sure if he was pretending to be a lion, dinosaur, or some other beast, but he was happily yelling “RAWR!” every few moments through a smile. Each time he did, my daughter wagged a finger: “You stop!”

I giggled a bit, but I also noticed a furrowed-brow mom watching the situation…

Read on: http://nathantimmel.com/2016/dangers-of-mollycoddling/