Don’t like how I’m raising my kid? Keep it to yourself and mind your own bloody business.
I remember in the 1970s there were supposedly child molesters and kidnappers hiding behind every bush waiting to snatch your kids. I rode my bike up to 15 miles from my house, explored woods, once ran away as far as 10-15 miles into New Jersey, and generally wasn’t home all afternoon. No rape, no kidnapping, and none of the kids that were doing the same around me were lured into a carpeted van with promises of candy.
So calm the hell down and let your kids be kids.