Have a seat right over here...

"My binky! Oh no, binky...", wails Haley O. We're pushing our way down Mt. Hope Street in North Attleboro and I've just realized Haley has jettisoned her binky. "We'll get you another one at home," I reply. (We have a million, and yes, I know she's too old to have a binky, but it keeps her busy in the stroller and her crib) "No! NO!! NOOOOOOOO! Binky. Now!!" she shrieks. We're only about a mile and a half in to our walk, and I don't want to deal with this for the rest of the way. Ugh. So, we trudge back the way we came, looking for wherever she tossed her binky. On my way back, I run into a young boy, probably around 12-13 who had walked down from the direction of the high school and had been following behind us. "I think I saw the binky. I didn't know if it was yours, and I didn't want to touch it just in case," he said. "Oh, no problem, she does this all the time," I said, as I continued backtracking. "I'll show you where it is," said the boy and walked back with us. After about 20 yards I found the errant binky and washed it off. I handed it to Haley and thanked the kid. "Oh, no problem!" he replied. I figured I'd head back down the hill and that would be it. But the kid was sticking by my side and started chatting. Oh geez. How do I talk to a 13 year old boy. First I kill the volume on my Sirius. He doesn't need to hear Howard Stern pouring out of the headphones which are now hanging around my neck.
He starts telling me his life story. He's polite and very articulate. He's coming from summer school at North High. It's for social studies. He's going into the eigth grade. He just moved to South Attleboro from Raynham and he usually rides his bike an hour and a half everyday to get to summer school, but his tire popped and today he got a ride in, but is walking to Dunkin' Donuts to be picked up by his dad's friend. His dad's girlfriend is home, but she lost her license for some reason and can't pick him up. His dad was in the army and got shot four times and he's waiting on a big settlement. Then they're going to move to Florida so his dad can start a business. He hopes they end up staying here though, because he wants to go to Tri-County to become a motorcycle mechanic. He also wants to join the army. I feel sort of bad for the kid. He seems nice enough, just wants to chat, and I sort of get the idea that his home life might be a little transient. I really don't know what to say, but the kid just seems happy to talk to me. He asks me about Haley. He tells me he almost got hit on Rt. 1 when he crossed over the 295 on/off ramps. I start feeling really bad and wonder what kind of douchebag friend can't drive an extra 2.5 miles to pick him up at the school. I resist the mommy urge to escort him to the Dunkin' Donuts and make sure he's picked up. I hit my crosswalk right before the corner and tell him I'm going the other way, but it was nice chatting with him. I impart all my after school special advice, "Keep your grades up! Go to college." I don't know why, but I ended up giving him $5. I never have money on me, especially in my stroller (I usually bring the credit card if we have to stop at the store), but I had a five and figured he could probably use it (and it would keep me from buying Haley and myself ice cream). "I might run into you again, we always walk around here. Take this and put it towards your tire. Thanks for helping me find her binky." I say as I hand him the cash. "Oh, I can't take this...you don't have to." he replied. "No, you keep it and take care." I said, hoping no one thinks I'm some candy wielding pervert and Chris Hansen isn't going to pop out. So, hopefully this counts as my good karma for the day. Either way I'm a sucker for a sad story, so now you know how to get my last $5 out of me.