Photo by: Walking Geek

Resilience

by Gigi of "Kludgy Mom"
Photo by: Walking Geek

The kid says, “Stop following us!”

My son hangs his head low.

3 boys, 10, 9 and 6 – all try to escape from my son after they’ve met playing at an indoor fun place. They’ve had a blast together for hours. I’m reminded of how mean kids can be; how quickly they can turn.

He continues to follow them around. He doesn’t get that they’re not kidding. He thinks this is a game. He thinks he is It.

Sometimes he tries a little too hard. He gets touchy feely. His jokes are not that funny or a copycat of someone else’s.

I can see why the boys might be annoyed. And this breaks my heart even more.

I want my son to figure out the delicate balance of friendships – a balance I am not great at. I watch from afar.

The kid says, “Get AWAY from us! Stop following us! We don’t want to play with you anymore.”

But I want to save him, too. The contents of my heart pour out onto the floor.

He gets it now, but only after brutal honesty on the other boy’s part. His spine bends, his shoulders droop. He looks confused and sad as the boys race away from him, leaving him behind.

I know how he feels.

What I want, more than to be liked myself, is for my kids to be liked for who they are. I can handle rejection, I think to myself. He can’t. He’s so little.

I don’t really know if the boys are being mean, or are just done playing with my son. I can’t tell them to stop it. I need to let him work it out. I need to let him experience this life lesson.

I know he is going to come over to me, sad. My brain is already turning over the words I could say to him. Should I be matter-of-fact? Encouraging? Comforting? Coddling? Firm? Honest? I identify this moment, and the words I choose in it, as one where he can grow and learn, or one where he can come away feeling dejected. I need to teach him resilience.

But he doesn’t come over to me. He runs off to the back of the bouncy house place, where I cannot see him. Minutes go by. And more. And more.

Finally, I get up and try to find him. I know my child. He is sitting somewhere by himself, lips turned down in a pout and head between his hands. Or he is bouncing alone. Or he is seeking the company of his sister, who he’d not normally play with here.

I am wrong.

I find my son happily playing with 2 other boys. They are playing hide and seek. They are following him around. He is the ringleader now. Life is okay. My kid is okay. He bounces back. He learned coping and resilience. The brutal rejection of just a few moments ago has passed.

He is a better kid than I ever was. And he has taught ME resilience.

Gigi is a recovering lawyer and ex-high tech marketer who now stays at home with her 2 kids in Austin, TX. Her snarky take on motherhood, cooking and blogging can be found at Kludgy Mom.

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