And oh, how self-satisfied I feel perched on a park bench with my iced coffee, thinking, “Thank goodness that’s not my child.” But, of course, it kind of is.
“Mommyyyyyy!” A scream slices through the playground, louder than the usual happy chaos of children soaring on swings or racing down slides. Instantly, all the parents—like a herd of zebras at a watering hole—turn their heads in unison. Yet, I’m not too concerned. My ears are trained to pick up on the distinct sounds of distress.
While I don’t see my own rosy-cheeked son howling at the bottom of the slide, he is, in fact, the cause of someone else’s tears.
“No! I’m not giving it back!” he yells, clutching a Thomas the Tank Engine that definitely isn’t his.
“But it’s mine!” the other boy cries, reaching for his beloved train.
“No. I want it!”
At this point, I feel a surge of frustration towards my son. I know this is one of those so-called “teachable moments,” the kind where I’m supposed to approach him calmly, kneel down to his level, and speak in soothing tones.
An ideal mother would say, “Sweet Boy, it seems you’re feeling quite angry right now.” She would explain, “That train doesn’t belong to you, and this child would like it back.” She might even ask, “What can we do instead of yelling?”
But unfortunately, this mother takes a different route, her voice booming from deep within. “Dude, that is not your train. Give it back. Now!”
Predictably, my son erupts into his own screams. It’s been a long day. Scratch that—it’s been a long three and a half years. I’m mortified that my sweet boy—the one who loves me to sing him a song on the way to preschool and who shares his snacks with friends—is the reason for another child’s tears.
The other boy’s mother arrives at the scene, wrapping her arms around her sobbing child, and shoots a piercing look at my son. I can’t blame her. I’ve been there too; just last year, I wanted to unleash my frustration on a little girl who had taken my son’s favorite toy. When I witnessed the heartbreak on my child’s face, I felt a primal urge to snatch that toy back, to restore his joy.
Here’s a truth I’m reluctant to admit: I’d rather be the protective lioness than the mother whose child causes another’s distress.
So, what are my options? I could engage in a tug-of-war with my (incredibly strong) son, demanding he return the train, but then I’d be that mother losing control in public. Or, I could wrestle the toy away and force an apology, but we all know that would just be for show. Alternatively, I could remind my son of a time he felt sad when someone took something from him, and hope these words spark a bit of empathy in him.
There it is—the “teachable moment” shining through the exhaustion of a long day, a lesson for both of us.
Because karma has a way of coming around, and now that I’ve witnessed my child’s less-than-stellar behavior, I’ll try to be more understanding when another little one inevitably hurts his feelings. If you’re navigating similar challenges, check out this insightful post on home insemination for more parenting wisdom. For those exploring the journey of parenthood, this resource offers valuable insights into pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, parenting is a wild ride filled with ups and downs. The challenges we face with our kids can lead to unexpected moments of growth, both for them and for us. Whether it’s dealing with toy disputes or navigating feelings, each experience is a chance to learn and grow.