When your worst nightmare is someone else’s viral moment.
I keep my voice calm. Professional. Even though my face is definitely turning red and my anxiety is trying to convince me the world is ending.
“Hey.” I walk over with Ben still holding my hand. “I don’t think you meant any harm. But we actually have a no-posting policy about Ben.”
The mom blinks at me. “What? I was just capturing a sweet moment.”
“I totally get that impulse.” I do. God, do I ever. “But Ben’s family has a privacy policy. No faces. No videos. No posting.”
She looks at me like I just told her the earth is flat. “But it was just for my stories. It’s not like I’m putting it on the news.”
“Just for my stories” is exactly the problem, lady.
Do you know how fast things spread?
Do you know how many creeps areout there?
I can feel Jag hovering close-by, ready to jump in if necessary.
“I know it seems harmless,” I continue, still calm. Still professional. “But her dad is pretty strict about this. And honestly? Kids deserve privacy. Even in sweet moments.”
The other mom chimes in. “But everyone posts their kids. That’s what social media is for.”
And here we go. The argument I used to make when I was on the other side. When I was the one mining every moment for content. When I thought visibility equaled value.
“Everyone posts their kids,” I agree. “And that’s the key.Theirkids. Ben is notyourkid. Ben’s family chooses not to post her anywhere online. So I’m asking you, parent to parent, to please delete that clip.”
The first mom’s face goes through several emotions. Defensive. Annoyed. Then, finally, something that might be understanding.
“Fine.” She pulls up her phone. Shows me the deletion. “But you’re being really uptight about this.”
Uptight.
Sure.
That’s what we’re calling “protecting a five-year-old’s privacy” now.
“Thanks for understanding,” I say instead. Because escalating won’t help anyone. I turn toward the other mom and wait expectantly.
“Deleted,” the second parent says, showing me her screen.
I nod. “Thank you.”
We leave. Ben is oblivious to the whole thing. She’s telling Frederick about the crayon incident in great detail.
But I’m rattled.
Because that mom isn’t the problem. She’s a symptom. Everyone has a phone. Everyone posts everything. And the line between “capturing memories” and “violating privacy” has completely dissolved.
When you realize you used to be the villain in this story.
I text Sabrina as soon as we’re in the car. Jag’s driving. Ben’s buckled in with Frederick.
Parent almost posted Ben’s hallway moment. Got a delete but we need to set clearer boundaries. Need your PR expertise...
Her response is immediate:On it. Meet me at FHG in 20?
Done,I text back.
