I kicked a kid

A couple weeks ago, while up in the Poconos for a garlic festival, I kicked a kid. It wasnt intentional, although I have had yearnings to kick children before. When the garlic festival was over I went to the nearby outlet malls to hopefully find a new pair of Vans sneakers (my mission was successful as I ended up with a pair of navy kicks). As I was walking down the sidewalk I noticed a young lad with curly blond hair, oversized glasses (or maybe he had a munchkin head), a dirty soft white shirt and blue and white striped Osh-Kosh-Bagosh overalls. He was no older than 2, and probably just learned to walk recently. He was standing off to the side of the sidewalk, so I paid him no mind as I passed his position. I then looked to the left to stare into another store when I felt a familiar thud on my right foot.

When I was at Penn I played college football. I was the starting defensive lineman, but I was also the back up punter. When you kick the pigskin your foot usually stings for a couple seconds. I felt this same twinge when I punted this young lad. While I was able to punt a football about 45 yards, this young kid went a mere three feet. However, those three feet were enough to startle the hell out of him as he didnt even know to cry as he lay there, recently punted, on the hard concrete.

I asked his father if he was ok, and feigned concern very well. After he was picked up and scalded by his father and mother I walked away and laughed and laughed and laughed. I can only hope that he remains permanently scared or at least left lumpy.