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The little padded tunnel at the playcentre was finally free. I directed my toddler to it, just as a boy of about five sprinted over and launched himself into it from the other end. As I took my daughter’s hand to lead her to another toy, the little boy looked me dead in the eye and kicked her fair in the face.
And so begin the years of having to let my child play with other children. Until now she’s been too little to make much use of parks and things, but the time has come when I must release her into the wild. Even though I err way more on the side of free-range than helicopter parent, I still worry a little bit about kid interaction.
I know they’re little. I know reason isn’t at the forefront of their thinking. I know concepts like sharing and taking turns and fairness aren’t things they can fully comprehend. I know all this and it’s okay.
But I was that little girl who was bullied and picked on. I was a rule-follower and do-gooder and nothing pained me more than someone who jumped a queue or didn’t play fair. But kids don’t play fair. And it’s too much to ask for them to do so. And I need to let the little kid in me go so my actual little kid can get in there among the rough and tumble of kids gone wild.
To date I’ve been very zen about the whole issue, and I only hope I can keep that up. I watch my daughter interact with other kids. I watch them negotiate toys and slides and tricycles when one has what the other wants. I watch. I let them battle it out most times, or I remove her from what I can only see as a losing fight.
I look around for the parent of the kid who hits my own, or pushes her over, or steals a toy, and most of the time I’m relieved to see they intervene. I’m new to this and don’t know what the rules are. I just know I’m cognisant of what my kid does so she’s not a little brat, or isn’t poking someone else’s kid in the eye and that’s really all I can do.
But for the times when the other parent is busy or not looking, I try to remember that one day that might be me. And that I’m a good mother and I pay attention, but there might come a time when I’m not. And I’d hate to think anyone thought I didn’t care because I was momentarily occupied elsewhere. And while I’d like to tell that little face kicker exactly what I thought of his unjustified shenanigans, he would care about zero percent.
So I let her go and let her be a kid with other kids and learn for herself to get by. I want her to be braver than I was, to take chances and risks and make friends
and play fair.
And I’m hoping I make it through her childhood in one piece.
