LITMIR.BIZ

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on his bike, never to be seen again. Then he talks to a “safety expert” who talks about kids getting snatched from their bikes and calls it “a common scenario.”

      Common? It is so not common that it almost never happens. About seventy times more kids die by drowning—is that common? Four hundred times more are killed by car accidents. Four hundred for every kidnapped kid. But would you call a fatal car accident common? Tragic, yes. Common, no.

“Not a word about probability has been spoken,” notes The Science of Fear author Gardner. “Having just seen a string of horrifying examples, [one might] conclude that the chances of this crime happening are high.”

      In fact, the fear of some crimes is so over the top that the newest wrinkle—actually, not so new anymore—is parents going online claiming to have just narrowly escaped having their kids snatched away.

      You've probably seen a Facebook post like this one: “A man came up to us at Sam's Club and asked if the empty cart nearby was ours… . It seemed like an innocent encounter.” Innocent, that is, until the mom and kids head to Walmart and see the guy again. Can you imagine? How terrifying. He was “feverishly texting on his phone but not taking his eye off my daughter.” This, wrote the mom, could only mean one thing: “I have absolutely NO doubt that that man is a trafficker looking for young girls to steal and sell.”

      And I have absolutely no doubt that she's wrong.

      Why? Well, first of all, these breathless Facebook posts are so similar, they seem to have been stolen (like an innocent child!) from some Breathless Mom Template: First, mention seeing some guy or guys looking at you and your kids at Store A (or Aisle A). Then, mention the guy or guys turn up again in Store B (or Aisle B). Don't forget to mention your incredible “Spidey Sense” that these ostensible “shoppers” were up to no good. To prove it, throw in a completely normal detail as proof-positive of their nefariousness. (“He only had a few items in his cart,” “He kept glancing at his phone,” “His friend was waiting outside with the minivan's door wide open.”) Then, use the following stat, no matter where you live: “And ______ is the #2 city/state in America for sex trafficking!” (Never say it's #1. That's not believable.) Finally, congratulate yourself for, against all odds, saving your kids by either (A) bravely staring down the guy or guys, or (B) asking the store manager to walk you to your car.

These stories sometimes get hundreds of shares and comments like, “Whew! That was close!” and “Glad your mama bear instincts kicked in!” So maybe it actually seems like a good deed to forward them to your own circle of friends, as a reminder to be on the alert.

      But this is not spreading helpful information. It's just spreading baseless fear. I asked crime researcher David Finkelhor, this book's best friend when it comes to debunking urban myths about crimes against kids: How many children have been stolen from their parents in public and forced into the sex trade?

      He said he has heard of exactly zero. And remember: His entire job is to track crimes against children.

      Why, then, do so many moms write these stories? I don't know if they truly believe that they saved their kids from traffickers, or if they just want the adulation that comes from thwarting a close call.

      And in fact, it doesn't matter. What matters is to recognize that when someone is writing about a crime that, in the end, did not take place, we can't talk about it as if a crime did take place. It's like me saying, “I saved myself from the chandelier falling on my head by diving under the couch! … And also, I guess, by the fact that the chandelier didn't fall.” Did I save myself? Do I deserve comments like, “Good move!” and “Close call!”

      Anyway, for some reason stories of children in peril—real or fictional, on almost any medium—are great for getting attention. And so, day after day, second after second, a vision of the world comes into our lives that is sad, scary, shocking, and totally at odds with the odds. Switch it off, press delete, or find some other way to ignore the drumbeat of doom and you'll probably be a little more at peace. A little less worried about your kids’ safety.

      That may sound like I'm saying, “Ignore the awful truth and go live in your little bubble.” But I'm trying to say that that the horror-filled media is a bubble of its own—a soul-freezing, hope-crushing, shoppers-as-psychopaths place. If you lived there, you'd be dead now.

Or at least impaled on a towel hook.

       REAL WORLD

       The First Thing I Did Was Disconnect the Cable

      Writes a Free-Ranger:

      I have to say that I am an overprotective mother and have tried to loosen up a bit lately. I do not want my children to grow up in fear of everything. I am taking baby steps—just allowing my children, one being a teen, to go to the park across the street unsupervised—but I am getting there. The first thinge I did was disconnect the cable. Not because of what the kids were watching but because of what I was watching. Just like the Internet. If something catches my eye, I read it. But if it is about another child abduction or another school shooting, I do not read it. I am trying to let go of those fears that the media has generated.

       Going Free Range

       Free-Range Baby Step: Don't click that link! Get today's local news from an actual local—a neighbor. Bonus: Maybe you two can keep an eye on each other's kids, literally making your block safer.

       Free-Range Brave Step: No more keeping CNN on as background noise. I know, it's nice to hear a voice. But the fear seeps in even when you think it doesn't. Switch to music or some podcast that isn't a 27-part series on tracking a murderer.

       One Giant Leap for Free-Range Kind: Get up and go out. Spend that hour you were going to watch another Law and Order on a walk with the kids instead. Look around at all the unspeakable crimes not being committed. This is called reality. (Not to be confused with reality TV, which is a crime all of its own.)

Commandment 3Avoid Experts Who Knew You Were Doing Everything Wrong? … . Them!

      Did you read What to Expect When You're Expecting? Of course you did. Or your spouse did. Everyone did. I did. I found it very helpful.

      And horrible.

      Like most advice out there for parents.

      Helpful because when you're wondering if those gas pains are really contractions, it's there to give you a clue. (Baby's head emerging? Not gas.) But even though at times the newer editions bend over backward to reassure moms-to-be that they should “lose the guilt,” the basic premise of this book is that there's a right way and a wrong way to act when you're pregnant, and a whole lot of dilemmas and potential pitfalls along the way. Or, as the introduction to the fourth edition cheerfully proclaims, “More symptoms and more solutions than ever before.”

      That's good, because moms just weren't worried enough.

Let's take a glance at the twenty-nine pages on “eating well.” (Not to be confused with the brand extension, What to Eat When You're Expecting—a whole book. By the time you're done reading it, the baby's in law school.) Naturally, the authors tell moms to try to eat a balanced diet. Fine. But then they go on to say that this isn't just a question of trying to eat a few more spinach salads and a little less Kahlúa cream pie. No, the writers ask moms to kindly remember that “Each bite during the day is an opportunity to feed that growing baby of yours healthy nutrients.”

      Not each meal. Not each day. Each bite has to be carefully considered if you're going to be doing the right thing by your child. So “Open wide, but think first.”

      What are the consequences of a single bite you don't “think first” about? Oh … maybe the slow

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