g r o w i n g u p
My best friend in the States wrote about her son and his experiences at their local playground recently, and she mentioned something that really struck a nerve with me. She had been forced to stand and watch as her son was teased, and eventually found a way to rectify the situation (can you say Spiderman airplane?) in order to get all the kids to play together and be kind. Living through this situation had her asking, “When do they get old enough to realize someone is making fun of them?”
Her boy isn’t quite old enough (or experienced enough? who knows?) to realize when someone is being mean to him. He doesn’t even know how to be mean himself, he’s a really good kid, and raised very well. Reading what she wrote made me realize that it won’t be long before Dash is in that same situation, being teased for being “a baby”, or whatever. Who knows what the kids will come up with, but you know it will be something, because if you’re not the bully, you’re getting picked on. That’s just how the playground works, and it’s really not that different from life as an adult, truth be told.
I don’t look forward to the first time Dash comes in the door upset because someone is being mean to him, because I’m not going to run out the door and crack some little fucker over the head with a baseball bat. I’m not going to call his mom and complain, and I’m not going to pat my son on his head and tell him that it’s never going to happen again - it will happen again, and hearing people say things you don’t want to hear is nothng he can avoid.
Still, it breaks my heart just thinking about my son embarassed and sad because of something someone else has said or done to him. Not too long ago, he was dancing in front of a neighbor’s teenage daughter and laughing. He sang, spun and slid across the floor, maintaining eye contact with her all the while to make sure she was still watching. He had this smile on his face that only comes when he’s truly thrilled with himself - he was so proud.
Then, out of nowhere, he slipped and fell. A tear formed in the corner of his eye. For a second I thought he had hurt himself when he fell; but as he stood up he covered his face with his hands and ran out of the room. (Yes, I know he’s a drama queen.)
“Holy shit, he’s embarassed!”
It was the first time he had ever actually been embarassed, and it struck me like a ton of bricks. My baby is capable of being embarassed, it’s only a matter of time before he gets his feelings hurt and all that wonderful crap. Embarassment is the first step to a wide range of emotions that parents dread experiencing with their kids. You want so badly to scoop them up and erase it all and tell them that it doesn’t matter because you love them and blah blah blah.
But we know we won’t always be there to do that, and it sucks.
