I almost ran over a kid last night with my pickup truck. He couldn't have been more than 4 years old. I was driving about 30 miles an hour through a residential neighborhood at about 8 p.m. The kid ran from behind a van and I swerved to miss him. I did, but only by about five feet. If I had kept going straight, I would have run him over.
He was running towards his mother, who was in the car across the street. She looked like she was getting the car ready for them to leave, like I do with my nine-month old when I get the car seat ready. My guess is that she left him in the house while she got the car ready and he ran out on his own.
You always hear people say, "He came out of nowhere..." and it's true. It all kind of happened in slow motion. I distinctly remember what he looked like: Hispanic, dark hair, colored striped shirt. In my rear view mirror, as I drove away, I saw him cross the street and his mother take him by the hand, walking him back towards the house.
There's a chance she didn't even notice the whole episode. And he didn't appear to be rattled in the slightest. Me, I couldn't sleep last night.