These People Don’t Rock At Being Parents

I am hiking up the back-and-forth part of the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon with my husband when something lands beside me. I don’t see it, but I hear it. Then another, then a third. Then, my husband grabs me and pulls me to the rock wall just as a stone comes flying over from above and lands almost right where I was standing. We look up and see two small heads poking over the edge.

My husband yells up to them.

Husband: “Hey! Stop throwing stuff!”

Voice Above: “Okay!”

It stops for a while, and then another stone comes down, landing just a few feet in front of us. Again, two small heads are looking down at us.

Husband: “Stop!”

Voice Above: “Okay!”

We reach the top and find two children — maybe seven at the oldest — tossing small rocks over the edge, and not like they are trying to get them out into the Canyon, more like spiking a volleyball. There are two adults with them but they are busy taking photos of the Canyon and each other.

Husband: “Are you the ones throwing rocks down there?”

Child #1: “No.”

Child #2: “Watch!”

He picks up a stone about the size of a mandarin orange and whips it down to the trail below.

Me: *Gently* “You could hurt someone doing that.”

Child #1: “Mommy! Help!”

The mother looks up, alarmed. My husband and I are still further from the kids than the parents.

Mother: “What the f***?!”

She pulls her children behind her. The father steps up.

Me: “Your kids are throwing rocks at hikers.”

Mother: “They’re just having fun.”

Father: “They’re fine.”

Husband: “They’re going to kill someone.”

Father: *Scoffs* “Nobody gets killed with rocks.”

Me: “That is—”

Husband: “Look, we almost got hit several times. It’s dangerous.”

Father: “P***y.”

We walked on without another word to the family. We did notify a park staff member in the welcome center, but I don’t know if anything ever happened after.