Mean kids

I never really knew how mean little kids could be until I witnessed their evil being directed at my child. I know all about teenagers. They can be spiteful and sarcastic, jealous and malicious. Some become experts at holding a grudge. I guess in my oblivious imagination, I assumed children were kind; however, I have quickly learned that this is not always so.

Cooper is at the age where he simply wants to play, and demographics don’t mean a thing: young or old, black or white, girl or boy, this kid just wants to have fun. He can show up at the ball park with a sack full of trucks and spot a potential playmate a mile away. The first thing he will ask is, “Mom, can I share my toys with that boy?” He hasn’t quite come to grips with the fact that all kids may not be interested.

Our first encounter with the dark side of childhood came when else, but during an evening at the ball park. A couple of kids we didn’t know were having a good time playing tag. Cooper had never played tag before, but he was taking it all in, as he stood in the background watching.

I could see that he was enjoying their game, even from the sidelines. He was smiling and crouching over with his hands on his knees. I guess he decided he’d not wait for an invitation because he jumped right in and started running around with them as if they’d been playmates for years. At first the other kids just gave him a sort of sideways glance. But when they figured out he was joining in their fun-uninvited-they stopped in their tracks, looked at him with their hands on their hips, and said, “Hey! You aren’t playing with us!”

Sometimes, the disruption to the ease of playtime is caused by the straightforward differences in gender. We've learned that girls can have much higher playtime expectations than little boys, and they have a tendency to be a bit bossy. Kind of like an umpire who anticipates the play and makes the call before it even happens.

Other times a child is left out of the fun merely as a result of a disparity in age. Not so long ago, we spent an entire Saturday at a men’s softball tournament. Lucky for us, there was an empty field adjacent to the one on which we were competing. Cooper spent hours that day running the bases, golfing softballs across the infield, driving cars in the dirt…until the “big boys” showed up. The five year olds. They had a bag of wiffleballs and bats to match, and they informed Cooper that he could not play with them and he needed to get off their field. But like a dog to a bone, Cooper saw those two dozen balls strewn about home plate, and he could not contain himself. He artistically golfed every one of their wiffleballs out into center field and then causally went looking for something else to get into.

I thought for a second about disciplining Cooper for hitting all of those balls out there, but something in my gut told me that the mean little kid was getting just what he deserved. Besides, at least now he knows that the “little kid” is definitely big enough to play ball. I bet next year he’ll even pick him to be on his team.

Just as my faith in humanity and the innocence of little children had almost been completely destroyed, we came across two little angels who saved my cynical soul and renewed my belief in the kindness of strangers-and those under four feet tall.

I’m not sure how old these girls were, at least nine or 10. But for some reason they took great care in playing with my boys that day at the ball park. I’d never seen them before, and I don’t even know where they came from, but you can bet I found their mothers before we left. And from the looks on those mothers’ faces when I thanked them for their daughters’ kindness, they might have been as surprised as I.

So, what is a parent to do? All of these kids were several years older than Cooper, and I’m sure they thought he was still a baby. But in my mind their advancement in age meant they certainly should have known better, and it simply left them to be accountable.

I understand the whole psychology behind why little kids can be so cruel. Setting up boundaries, and struggling for autonomy, and learning that one way to strengthen a bond within a group is to try and keep others out. But when it is my kid who is being mistreated, suddenly the knowledge and experience I have accumulated over the years goes right out the window. That momma bird instinct kicks in and all I want to do is swarm the enemy and protect my young.

I watched for 10 years as students passed through our hallways, and I discovered that it’s not every day we meet parents who expect their children to treat others with respect. And that’s where it begins for sure. I realize that kids will be kids-and they all have their moments-but if we as parents are doing our job, a moment’s insanity is better than a lifetime of cruelty, and that is what we will prevent if we are attentive to our children in their moment of childhood. And if we are looking, there will come a day when we can stand from afar and see all the efforts of our hard work pay off.

I’m so glad we encountered those little angels that day. It renewed my faith in children and parents and civilized society in general. I was all set to grab a chicken, buy a cow, and move to the country where I would home school my kids until they were at least 21. I was willing to try anything to tuck my kids away from all the meanness of the world…But thanks to those two strangers, and their parents, now, maybe I’ll reconsider.

And that’s All in a day’s work!