Today, the phrase “It hurts me more than it hurts you” carries a little more weight.
Yesterday, Little Dude went to the pool with some friends. He was pretty excited. After all, he’s hanging out with a couple “big people” most of the time– one who sounds like a “dead stormtrooper” when playing Star Wars and the other who rigorously enforces bedtime and tooth brushing. Since big people have dinner to make, houses to tidy and a baby to take care of, real friends are way more fun. Parental “friends” are only sometimes fun… and, well, they’re Parents.
So pool time. Little Dude is ecstatic. Lady-Friend takes him to the store where he gets some cookies he can share with his friends. Unfortunately, he travels in a car separate from the other kids. Upon arrival, the two friends immediately tell Little Dude, “Stop following us. We don’t want to play with you.” Naturally, Little Dude is crushed. Later, Little Dude breaks out the cookies. The kids enjoy them all (yay!), but leave him none (boo!). The friends then quickly reassert their intention of not playing with him at all. So, Little Dude ends up playing alone. All afternoon. Just like he could have done at home, but without the heartbreak.
When I got back from work, his face was curled in a hurt frown as he fought tears and described to me how no one wanted to play with him, how everyone ate his cookies and didn’t share and how it made him sad/mad and not want to be their friends any more and how he likes “big people” more than “little people”. While it made him mad, it just made me sad.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not anonymously chastising any kids or claiming Little Dude is perfect. I’ve seen Little Dude play the same mean game from time to time (at the least now he knows why he gets in trouble for it). I’m also well aware all kids can be incredibly fickle, mean and insensitive and that things like this are the standard ebbs and flows of the childhood landscape…
…but, for some reason, this one really affected me. Probably because Little Dude is mine. He’s my buddy. I know that sounds sissy, but if the next X amount of years have me feeling the same amount of empathy for my kids as I do today, there’s going to be a lot of proximal angst. It’s just that seeing his excitement turned to sorrow– and perpetuated throughout the whole day, not just a few minutes– was surprisingly heart wrenching.
Of course, Little Dude will learn, adapt and come out fine, but I have to wonder if this is where people slowly begin their adult decent into cynicism. That’s probably over thinking it and I guess it can be, but I suppose that’s where life’s hard lessons are learned, achieved and overcome.
It’s just sometimes, it’s tough to have a seat on that ride.
