Me, Her, the Boy and a Dog

Nic and I went to Chic-Fil-A for lunch on Friday. They have free WiFi, chicken nuggets and an indoor, air-conditioned playground. The weather was “blah” and Nic has been inside for almost two days because of bad weather, so I wanted to let him stretch his legs and get some play time.

Nic was playing and two other kids came in, a brother/sister duo; the brother was probably five and the sister about four. They were rambuncuos from the moment they came into the play area. Their mom was sitting in the restaurant, reading a book while the kids played.

Nic was up near the top of the playground, which is a series of tubes and platforms, so when he’s up there, I can’t really see him. He usually just climbs up to the top and then comes down the tube slide.

I hear the brother/sister duo start yelling at each other about playing tag. Well, suddenly I hear Nic start to cry and I asked, “Nic, what happened, buddy?”

He said, “That boy hit me in the head!”

Oh boy.

I told Nic to come down and he did. I asked him what happened and he show me how the other boy smacked him on his forehead. I could hear the little hellians “whispering” loudly to each other about how “the big guy” is going to come up there. I walked around until I was able to see the little boy and we made eye contact. He looked scared … rightfully so.

I asked him, “Did you hit my son?”

He said, “Yes. But she started it!” pointing to his sister. I told him that if he did it again, I would tell his mother. I know - you’re probably thinking, “You should tell his mom anyway!” I’m getting there.

The father in me came out … not the parent, the father. And yes, there is a difference. A parent makes the responsible and more rational decisions when faced with these parenting challenges. The “father” in me reflected back to my upbringing and how my dad handled these situations.

I pulled Nic aside and told him, “Nic, you go back up there and keep playing.”

Nic said, “But he might hit me on the head again!”

“Nic, don’t you ever let anyone bully you around. If you want to go play, you go play. And if he hits you again, you hit him back.”

Yep. I did it. I told my three year old son to solve violence with violence. So much for “Father of the Year,” huh? But before you report me to Child Protective Services, hear me out.

This is the dilemma. I don’t want Nic fighting, but at the same time, I don’t want him to run and tell an adult every time some little bullies him. Because I can tell you, from personal experience, kids that do that, get bullied even more. I will not allow my son to grow up like that. At some point, he needs to learn how to stand up for himself and if that means putting a bully in his place, so be it.

Now, immediately after I told my son to hit that kid back if he hit Nic again, I had regrets. I knew it was the “father” in me talking, not the parent. So, I swallowed my pride and called Nic’s mom for a parenting pow-wow.

She saw my point, but argued that Nic is only three and might not fully understand when is the appropriate time to defend himself. Point well taken. She also suggested that I tell the boy’s mom that her son smacked Nic.

As we were getting ready to leave the playground, I pulled Nic aside and told him that he did the right thing by telling daddy that the other boy hit him. I also told him that if anyone ever hits him again, to tell mommy or daddy right away. He nodded and said, “Okay, daddy.”

On the way out, we walked past the mom who was burried in her book. She wasn’t paying any attention to her kids. I thought about telling her about what her son did, but I decided not to. Why? Well, for starters, I guess I felt like I would tattletaling. Secondly, I wasn’t really in the mood for confrontation.

Did I make the right decision? I don’t think there is a right or wrong answer. All I know is that when I was growing up, though we were older than Nic, our dad seemed to teach us the proper balance between telling an adult and handling it on our own.

I remember driving in our blue Volkswagon Vanagon and my brother Christopher punched me. We were probably 8 or 9 and I told dad, who was driving, “Dad, Chris hit me!” My dad, clearly frustrated with the bickering boys in the back seat said without hesitation, “If he hits you … hit him back!” It worked for us.

Nic is a very smart little boy and has a lot of potential to do just about anything he wants to in life. And while I would prefer that he settle his playground disputes with his brains, that’s an idealistic view of the world. The truth is, there are bullies out there, no matter how much you try to shield your kids, they’re out there. And I don’t want Nic to ever be afraid of other kids. And if that means he needs to stand up to a bully and put him in his place, then that’s what he’ll have to do.

I look back to another life lesson. I was probably 12 or 13 and had been playing pickup baseball games with some local nieghborhood kids. There was one kid who was particularly agressive, especially when things didn’t go his way. So, instead of dealing with the kid myself, I stopped going to play baseball. This pissed my dad off to no end and now I know why.

No parent wants their child to be bullied into not doing something they want to do. So, when Nic didn’t want to climb back up into the playground because he was afraid of that other boy, I had one of those movie-like flashbacks to that moment in my childhood. I don’t want Nic making the same mistakes I made in life. And isn’t that part of the whole parenting deal? To learn from our mistakes so our children won’t have to?

I know that Nic will make mistakes, that’s part of life and it’s unavoidable. But, if I can help him make just a few less, then that’s my job as a parent.

Sorry for the long post, but I needed to get that off my chest. I hope everyone’s having a great weekend!

(Pardon any typos, I don’t have an editor and this was more of a mind-dump, stream of consciousness writing session than a well-thought-out, planned essay.)