Like an orange on a toothpick

Panagiota and I took a taxi yesterday morning to our check-up with the OB/GYN. We were stopped at a street light when a guy driving a scooter turned in front of us with a two-year old on the seat behind him. The thing is, the kid wasn't strapped in or attached to any sort of safety device, and she was so small that her hands were incapable of gripping the driver's jacket. In the driver's defense, the little girl was wearing a helmet, but it was about ten sizes too big for her and way too heavy for her little neck. The proportions were roughly similar to what you would get if you stuck one of those Easter Island statues on a Cabbage Patch Doll.

Anyway, scooter guy zips along in front of us, banks a sharp left (during which Pegs gasped audibly as the child fumbled to maintain her balance) and took off down the street. Even the cab driver, a Frenchman, was shocked enough to say, "C'etait un peu limite, hein?" Loosely translated, that comes out to "Geez, what an asshole, huh?" From now on, whenever I get nervous about possibly screwing up as a parent, I'll just think of scooter guy and feel better knowing that I would never be able to do anything that stupid with my kid. I just feel bad for little helmet girl; the poor thing would have had better odds making it to her pre-school strapped to the back of a rabid wolverine.