Me, Her, the Boy and a Dog

Nic and I went to the park today. We tried to go berry pickin’ but didn’t get there until 11:30 a.m., and they close at … you guessed it, 11:30 a.m. So, we headed over the park and played for about two hours.

Nic met a lot of little kids there, but befriended a little boy named Austin, who was at the park with his dad, Scott, his mom and his older brother. Scott was kind enough to snap a picture of me and Nic. Nic doesn’t get to be around kids his age very often, so I am always worried how he’ll interact with them, but he did a great job today, with some gentle reminders from his old (and getting older) man.

At one point, Austin was ahead of Nic on this monkey-bar type ladder that kids walk up to get to the slides when he slipped and started to fall. His dad was right there and was able to grab his leg, but not before Austin’s little head bumped one of the bars. Instictively, I lunged forward and manage to grab his little arm before he hit the ground. It was about a six-foot drop, which for a 2-year-old is quite a drop.

Austin was just fine; he was more scared than anything. But, he only cried for a couple of minutes before he was ready to tackle the monkey-bar bridge thing again. When Nic first started climbing that thing, he slipped once, but he was able to hold on with his arms long enough for me to secure him, so he didn’t take quite the tumble that he witnessed today.

I found it interesting that even though you are on the playground with your kids, as a parent, you are also concerned about the safety and well-being of other kids. Well, at least I hope that’s how most responsible and caring parents feel. After the Austin incident was over, I started thinking about how I had left Nic on the ladder for a couple of seconds to help Austin. I didn’t think about it at the time, I just reacted. Granted, Nic has been climbing this ladder for a long time and 99 out of 100 times, he gets up there without a problem. But I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for leaving him, if only for a couple of seconds and just a few feet away.

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.)

For a while now, I’ve been trying to maintain both my Facebook and MySpace accounts. But, the time has come to choose a winner and it is Facebook. Sorry, MySpace. It came down to a time-management issue. I just can’t keep up with both of you and despite Facebook’s “new” layout and user interface (which most people seem to hate), I like FB better. It’s not you, it’s me … really.

I will keep my MySpace account, but I have purged my friends list down to actual friends and family and I don’t plan on checking it often. I will get e-mail alerts if someone leaves a comment or send me a message, but I average about one or two a month and those are usually from my younger cousins, who are much more suited for MySpace than me.

It’s not that MySpace isn’t cool or functional, it’s just that most of my friends, colleagues, classmates and family are on Facebook. Aethetically speaking, I find FB’s layout much tamer than MySpace, which is an assualt on the senses when you visit their site; ads flashing all over the place, movies playing without allowing me the option of turning them off (really bad when you’re at work), and a lot of the time, some questionable images in the form of ads that I really don’t feel are appropriate for a site aimed at the younger generation.

Facebook may not be pretty or have a fancy user interface with customizable templates, but I prefer it that way - one less thing for me to have to maintain or fuss about. I guess it comes down to MySpace having too many bells and whistles (also read “time wasters”), whereas Facebook is pretty straight forward - nothing to customize, no color schemes or background images. I like it. Plain, simple and to the point. Say what you have to say and share what you have to share and you’re done.

One of my favorite features of the “new” Facebook is the ability to comment on your friends’ posts/status updates/photos right from your home page. I don’t have to visit each friend’s photo album or wall to post a comment - I can do it right from the main page. That is a huge plus in my book, not that anyone would read it.

Well, that’s all for now. If you have MySpace or Facebook and are thinking of adding me as a friend, please do so Facebook (look on the icon at the top of the right column of this page). My goal is to see how long I can go without logging into my MySpace account. You know, when you view someone’s profile it will tell you when they last logged in? I’m going to go as long as I can without having to log in. Bets anyone?