More than Juan problem...

SMACK!

It's eight minutes to midnight. A baby's head just hit the cold, concrete floor after falling from the bottom step of the bleachers. No one was watching her.

Ten feet away her four-year-old sister is crawling between strangers' legs on another set of bleachers. No one is watching her either.

On the field, parallel to the baby is a woman lying on the ground. Her knee mangled, she twists in agony. Her aggressor stands over her, twice her size. No offer for help up. Hardly an, "Are you alright?" No, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" No, "Someone get ice quick!"

Instead she stands there, peering through the glass toward the baby. Her eyes dart back and forth until locking on to a man when she yells, for everyone to hear:

"What the fuck Juan!?"

I'm sorry, what the fuck Juan?

A fallen baby. An unwatched kid. An injury on the field. Oh, and now it's midnight. Is Juan the only problem here?



I'm one of the strangers. The woman in agony is Katie. She damaged ligaments on both sides of her ankles and up into her shin.

The woman on the field, the aggressor? Well, she's just a bad parent.

Clearly, so is Juan.

Seriously, what the fuck Juan?