the lonely boy on the midnight city bus

It's as if every feeling that I come in contact with - every emotion, has to course it's way through me before I can pass it by. There was a boy, very young, sitting on the bus seemingly alone. His mother was close by, talking with the bus driver and ignoring him. He wanted to sleep, and he was fighting the urge to close his eyes which I couldn't understand. It was midnight, and he was very obviously accustomed to having to be awake at this point in the night. He grabbed for his mother's arm - tried to rest his head on her arm, which was met with a grimace and a scolding for trying to sleep as she made clear they would "be home soon". It made me want to cry - seeing this little boys desperation for attention scolded, his needs neglected for the purpose of socializing. It made me wonder how anyone who has not begun to understand the priority of being selfless would even bother reproducing - why torture a child with your inability to put the tender needs and wants of a young human first when it is time? In reality, at that point in the night it would be her time to be selfish (as is bedtime to any parent, really) but instead she had him carted around on the city bus at midnight. It's easy to observe these kinds of situations and criticize what kind of parent she is, construct in my mind what kind of life "he must have" and hold a pre-assumed judgment from only one encounter. Who am I to assume anything? Who am I to feel the power of saying anything about what kind of mother she is, or what kind of life she leads. It just makes me sad - the world makes me sad... humanity makes me sad.