Do you live in the world called oblivion?
This is a world where bad things don’t happen to you or your family. This is also a world where you ignore bad things that happen all around you. When it comes to our children this is a world that you need to leave. Human trafficking is extremely dangerous and prevalent in our area. These sick individuals like to find young kids and groom them into that world. Using tricks and things that seem innocent in order to abduct our kids are the norm now not the exception.
Here is an article about some kids that avoided abduction by using one of the things that I preach all the time, Strange Behavior, not stranger danger. One of the boys said that it was weird that an adult was asking a kid for help.
Read the article and please educate your children and everyone about this valuable technique to spot that bad guys.
Young Boys Evade Potential Kidnappers After Remembering Mom’s Simple Tip.
Jodie Norton, mom of 4, recently shared a post on her blog– Time Well Spent— that has people thinking twice about the old “Stranger Danger” rule. You’ve probably heard about stranger danger. It’s this idea that strangers are dangerous to kids and not to be spoken to. But what about the times where a kid is in actual danger and needs help from a stranger such as a police officer? The new lesson parents are teaching kids is called the “trick person” concept. In the post below, Jodie explains how this idea saved her 2 young sons from a near abduction. Read her shocking story below:
Three days ago I was in the shower around 8:30am when it felt like I was shot in my left ovary. It was an unbearable pain that had me doubled over, light-headed, and incredibly nauseous.
Well, with the help of some unseen angels, truly, I somehow got enough clothes on my body to be decent, and drove my four kids and myself five minutes to our small town ER. (I realized after this all blew over how foolish it was for me to drive while in intense pain. Be smarter than I was–- call an ambulance!)
In a moment of what I deem foggy-thinking “pain brain” I left my two oldest boys– –CJ (10) and T-Dawg (8) — outside the ER door on a bench to await our kind neighbor who said he was coming to pick them up and take them to school (thanks to my parents who arranged all this while I was driving to the ER). My younger two and I went inside to see if we couldn’t figure out what the heck was causing the pain. Spoiler alert: Ruptured ovarian cyst. Really fun stuff.
It wasn’t until my boys came home from school at 3:30pm, that I found out they had been waaaay late to school. I had wrongly assumed my neighbor was coming from his house (not somewhere farther away), so my two boys sat out front of the ER for 40 minutes. Not the 5 minutes I had expected. Their story of what had transpired while I had stupidly left them out there alone made me simultaneously sick and grateful.
In that 40 minutes of obedient sitting and waiting, my two boys experienced their first real-world experience with the freaky, perverted strangers they’ve been intermittently warned about. While on that bench, they were approached by an adult female and two punk males who asked them if they’d “help them out by going into the bathroom where her boyfriend was hiding from the doctor and see if they could convince him to come out and get treated.” Yes, I’m serious that’s what they said.
Even after CJ replied, “No, thank you” they kept at them.
“Please? You could really save his life if you’d just go in that bathroom and tell him it’s safe to come out.”
CJ said he returned all three of their pleas for help with a “no, thank you” (each stronger than the last) before they finally let up. Shortly afterward, the neighbor showed up and my boys jumped in his car, but, not before they saw a third adult male come out from the bathroom, jump into the car with these other three hooligans and drive off.
My mouth hung open the entire time they relayed this account.
Three days ago I was in the shower around 8:30am when it felt like I was shot in my left ovary. It was an unbearable pain that had me doubled over, light-headed, and incredibly nauseous.
Well, with the help of some unseen angels, truly, I somehow got enough clothes on my body to be decent, and drove my four kids and myself five minutes to our small town ER. (I realized after this all blew over how foolish it was for me to drive while in intense pain. Be smarter than I was–- call an ambulance!)
In a moment of what I deem foggy-thinking “pain brain” I left my two oldest boys– –CJ (10) and T-Dawg (8) — outside the ER door on a bench to await our kind neighbor who said he was coming to pick them up and take them to school (thanks to my parents who arranged all this while I was driving to the ER). My younger two and I went inside to see if we couldn’t figure out what the heck was causing the pain. Spoiler alert: Ruptured ovarian cyst. Really fun stuff.
It wasn’t until my boys came home from school at 3:30pm, that I found out they had been waaaay late to school. I had wrongly assumed my neighbor was coming from his house (not somewhere farther away), so my two boys sat out front of the ER for 40 minutes. Not the 5 minutes I had expected. Their story of what had transpired while I had stupidly left them out there alone made me simultaneously sick and grateful.
In that 40 minutes of obedient sitting and waiting, my two boys experienced their first real-world experience with the freaky, perverted strangers they’ve been intermittently warned about. While on that bench, they were approached by an adult female and two punk males who asked them if they’d “help them out by going into the bathroom where her boyfriend was hiding from the doctor and see if they could convince him to come out and get treated.” Yes, I’m serious that’s what they said.
Even after CJ replied, “No, thank you” they kept at them.
“Please? You could really save his life if you’d just go in that bathroom and tell him it’s safe to come out.”
CJ said he returned all three of their pleas for help with a “no, thank you” (each stronger than the last) before they finally let up. Shortly afterward, the neighbor showed up and my boys jumped in his car, but, not before they saw a third adult male come out from the bathroom, jump into the car with these other three hooligans and drive off. My mouth hung open the entire time they relayed this account.
My anger and shock turned to immense gratitude, however, when I heard CJ spout off a family “stay safe” rule we went over way too long ago that helped him know these creeps were up to no good. Most specifically, a tip for identifying a “tricky person.” CJ: “Mom, I knew they were tricky people because they were asking us for help. Adults don’t ask kids for help.”
Have you heard of the tricky people concept? Tricky people are the new strangers. Pattie Fitzgerald, the creator of Safely Ever After where the tricky people concept originated says, “Stop telling your kids not to talk to strangers. They might need to talk to a stranger one day. Instead, teach them which sorts of strangers are safe.” One of her guidelines for knowing what people are unsafe is the rule CJ remembered in time of need: tricky people ask kids for help. If a safe adult needs help, they’ll ask another adult. Not a kid. Pattie includes many other tips and rules for staying safe under her “prevention tips” tab on her Safely Ever After website. This website also does a great job of re-capping her life-saving information.
