Ambushed
I do not like stories or movies that feature threatened children. They never bothered me until I actually had kids, but now I can’t watch or read them at all. I am completely unable to disconnect the Mommy Bear circuit long enough to enjoy the fiction, so I avoid it.
Today I was reading a mild thriller (book title omitted to avoid spoilers). The book tricked me. I was introduced to a pair of children that were a match to Gleek and Patches in genders and ages. I was introduced to them obliquely in such a way that I never expected them to be seriously threatened. I saw them several times and thought “Oh how cute! JUST like Patches!” And then the children were not only threatened, but the little boy died.
I finished the book because it was hard not to. Then I threw it. I am MAD. I am mad at that author for making me care about those children. I’m mad the little boy died unecessarily from a bioterror weapon. I’m mad that his father comitted suicide and I never heard whether the mother recovered from the gunshot wound and I have no idea what happened to the terrorized little girl. And all of this is part of a subplot as if this tragedy wasn’t really important. This was NOT a happy book. A well written, interesting book, but not happy. I won’t be reading any more of this author’s books because I can’t trust her to not make me mad.
The rest of this evening will be spent snuggling Patches and generally appreciating how wonderful all of my kids are.