The unattended toddler. A scary thought. A frightening sight. The area where I live has, arguably, one of the largest collections of young mothers.
It no longer surprises to see a very young girl pushing a pram - sometimes two - with little kiddies inside sucking on dummies or shaking a stuffed teddy bear.
At first I mistook them for older sisters walking their infant siblings, giving mum a break. Then someone pointed out that this is how welfare laws are sometimes exploited, where the government apparently pays (unemployed) mothers hefty sums to manage/care for/raise each child.
Two children, so much the better, financially. One hasn't seen hard statistical figures showing how much of the money is actually spent on the child/children and how much is acquired by the parent (for anything from lipstick, to drinks, to clothes, to lifestyle in general).
It's a system that doesn't appear to be putting a lot of pressure on younger people to go out and put in a day's hard, honest labour.
Why work, after all, when you can stay at home and have fun making babies, then have more fun while the government pays for the cornflakes (for the baby) and the cigarettes (for her, and him).
Unlikely
Parenting skills don't come easy to the young-minded still grappling with issues like self-absorption. Where two or three young mums are gathered together, it isn't unlikely that the kiddies become a serious afterthought, not that one means to generalise.
There are, doubtless, alert young mothers out there. But recently, one little toddler's babysitter turned out to be the dog as it - the baby - crawled about the spacious, luscious front lawn, exploring, as inquisitive babies would, every little item it came upon - a pebble, twigs, a length of garden hose, the shade of a bush with green leaves, another bush with leaves the shade of yellow-gold.
Occasionally the dog would emit a bark, or a yap much like a warning and the child would turn, distracted momentarily from its exploring, and set off on a different route, its focus on something new.
Far in the background can be heard the tinkle of laughter, or is it glasses, as the young mum and a few of her friends discuss last night's television.
The babysitter barks once more but by this time it's all become very routine - the watchful bark, the heedful, nappy-clad, crawling infant. It's all safe. It's all good. Back to the laughter everybody.
Did you hear about whom George Clooney is dating this time? Gosh, how could he? Chitter-chatter, puff, clink. Bark, bark. Still, nobody picks it up.
The dog has barked twice in succession this time but this doesn't establish itself as a new pattern, it doesn't penetrate the cloak of joviality in the distance.
The child, too, is becoming heedless, or perhaps it, too, like the dog is transfixed by something, their focus on the same object. The child crawls towards what it sees.
The dog, watching the child, lets out an imperative bark as though ordering, "Stop!" "Stop!" it barks again, but this is the first time the infant has found a twig that moves in the grass, sliding parallel with it.
It reaches out a hand but the twig, making an S shape, slides away even as the dog bounds onto the lawn.
It is now barking seriously, demanding the child retreat, but the captivated infant will have none of it. It wants to capture what it cannot as yet possess, this slithering presence beside it on the green.
When it senses that barking alone is useless, the dog picks up the child by the nappy and begins to drag it away. The startled infant, thwarted in its endeavour, begins to cry. The crying brings the young mums running. Shocked, they see the dog with the child in its mouth.
Seconds later, the snake. In five seconds, imitating a life pattern, the 'babysitter' goes from villain to hero. Based on a true incident.
Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney.
