Recently I stood in line behind a young girl who requested two cups from the cashier at a deli.

“What for?” asked the woman behind the counter.

“Just to put water in,” came the girl’s response. She was pigtailed and precious. The woman handed her the clear, plastic cups. No money changed hands. Then the child proceeded straight to the drink machine and filled the cups with ice and soda. She did not look back.

I watched it all happen, and gave her my best “Martha Face”—the look of disapproval only my mother can make. Then I glanced at the cashier. She had seen it, too. Neither of us spoke.

As I followed the girl with my eyes, she took one of the cups to another youngster who was with her. No adults in sight. I’m not sure what I thought I should do, but I what I did in actuality was this: nothing.

“It wasn’t your place,” says my husband, Precious, when I tell him about the incident. “You didn’t need to get involved.”

“It’s stuck with me all afternoon,” I say. “The girl lied and stole, and I should have said something, taught her a lesson about right and wrong.”

Again from Precious: “What difference could you have made? You might have caused the girl to make a scene. You might have angered her parents when they found out.”

If it’s true that “it takes a village” to raise a child, did I miss an opportunity to contribute to the common good? Where do we draw the line between noticing and being nosy, reaching out and butting in?

Taking those questions to the next level, if this had been about "more" than soda, would I have taken a stand? I like to think so.

Amy Lyles Wilson