And oh, the relief I feel when I spot another child in distress and think, “Thank goodness that’s not my kid.” But, in a cruel twist of fate, it kind of is.
“Mommyyyyyy!” A piercing scream slices through the typical sounds of laughter and play, causing all the nearby parents to look up in synchronized alarm, much like a herd of zebras spotting danger at a watering hole. But while I glance up, I can’t say I’m too concerned. My ears are attuned to my children’s cries, and I know exactly what’s going on.
Yet, there it is: my son, Oliver, standing defiantly at the base of the slide, clutching a Thomas the Tank Engine that doesn’t belong to him. “No! I’m not giving it back!” he bellows, while the rightful owner, a small boy with tear-streaked cheeks, protests, “But it’s mine!”
And in that moment, I want nothing more than to shake Oliver.
Even amidst the chaos, I realize this is one of those dreaded “teachable moments.” I should approach my son calmly, kneel down to meet his gaze, and speak gently about sharing. An ideal parent might say, “Oliver, it seems like you’re feeling frustrated. This toy belongs to someone else.”
But instead, my voice booms, “Dude, that’s not your train. Give it back. Now!”
Predictably, my son joins in the chorus of screams.
It’s been a long day, and honestly, it feels like an eternity since I’ve had a peaceful moment. The child who usually delights in singing along to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” while we walk to preschool has turned into the source of someone else’s tears.
The other child’s mother approaches, arms wrapped around her sobbing boy, shooting me a look that could curdle milk. I can’t blame her; I’ve felt her pain before. Just last year, I almost lost it when a girl at the park snatched my son’s favorite Princess Tiana doll, leaving him in tears. The primal urge to protect my child surged through me, and I wanted to snatch that doll back and restore peace with a swift thwack.
Here’s the harsh truth: I’d rather unleash my inner lioness on another child than admit my own is the one causing this pain.
So, what are my options? I could engage in a battle of wills with my stubborn 3 ½-year-old, shouting, “Give me the train right this minute!” and become the parent everyone gossips about, or I could wrestle the toy away, force an apology, and know that it’s just for show—my son would only be upset about losing his prized possession.
Alternatively, I could try to instill some empathy in Oliver by reminding him of that fateful day when he, too, felt heartbroken over a lost toy. “Remember how sad you were when someone took your Princess Tiana doll? Can you see how this boy feels now?” I can only hope that this might spark a sense of compassion within him.
This moment is a lesson not just for Oliver but for me as well. Because karma has a way of teaching you, especially when your child is the one acting out. Now, I’ll be more understanding toward the next little one who inadvertently hurts my son’s feelings.
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Summary
Parenting often involves navigating challenging situations, especially when your child is the source of another’s distress. Moments of conflict can serve as important lessons in empathy and understanding for both parents and children alike.
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