The Boy at the Library

The two little red marks stayed bright on Eme's right cheek until late into the evening. I think we'd put her to bed before they went away. I don't know if she remembers it -- she doesn't behave as if she does (although, who knows what she'll do if she ever sees that boy again) -- but I can't stop thinking about it.

Eme's first "real" trip to the library (she'd been there in her stroller with us before, but it was to check out books and videos for us, not to play in the children's room; we were all very excited) was about a week after she turned one year old.

As you know, I am at home with Eme during the day most days. Even when I go somewhere for work I'm only gone for a few hours, and she has Grandpa Guy with her then. Given that she doesn't go to daycare, she doesn't meet with many other children. I had been thinking for a while that I wanted her to start getting some social interaction.

Thus, Emelie's debut in the children's room at the library.

There were a few other children there -- one baby, about 8 months old, his mommy sitting right next to him. Two boys, one about 3, the other about a year and a half, brothers. Their mommy sitting on a sofa a little ways away chatting with another mommy. One little girl, maybe 2, who belonged to the other mommy.

Eme went right up to the older boy, who was standing at the model train, and the boy handed over an engine. I said "say 'Thank You'" (reflexively; I'm trying to teach her to say thank you, but she doesn't say much at all yet, and even less when she was just a year old).

She tried to grab the other train engine from his other hand. I said "we don't take toys that someone else is playing with." (I've also been saying a lot of "we don't" sentences to help her learn appropriate behavior: "we don't hit the cats with drum sticks. Pet them gently. Geeeently. Good girl.")

The boy gave her the train anyway. The look in his eye said he was smitten with my tiny, beautiful little daughter. The mother saw this and said "that's my nice son; look out for the other one."

I didn't know what she meant, but I figured, I'm right here and grandpa is on her other side. What could happen?

Turns out the 20-month-old thought Eme was a doll. Not the way I think she's a doll, but the kind to play with. We went to the playhouse. He toddled right up to her and before I knew what was happening he had her cheek between his pudgy fingers and was pinching.

Eme's eyes opened wide with shock, maybe a little fear, and definitely pain. She let out a loud cry followed by a series of gasping sobs that broke my heart. This cry said both "How could that boy be so mean?" and "Mommy, why did you let this happen?"

Of course, as soon as I saw him reach out I was reaching for him, but it all seemed to happen in slow motion. Or maybe too quickly to comprehend.

I grabbed his little hand away. I said to the boy who wasn't mine, "No. We don't pinch people." And I had Eme up into my arms to comfort her. His mother, 10 feet away, glanced over, then went back to her conversation.

Fear. Would this scar Eme emotionally? Probably not, given that lots of kids get bitten and pinched by other kids all of the time at daycare and still turn out to be reasonable people. (See my post on Horses and Sealions, and Heartache and Love for more on this subject.)

Outrage. Where the hell was that mother? Why wasn't she looking after her own child?
Someone really needed to teach him some manners.

Frustration. Was it really my place to discipline someone else's child? I wouldn't want someone else to discipline mine.

Understanding. He probably wasn't old enough to know what he was doing. Or if he was, me yelling at him wouldn't help the situation anyway. The best I could do was what I did -- say no firmly and tell him why -- wasn't it?

Disappointment. But if it wasn't my place, then why wasn't the responsible party taking charge? As Eme starts socializing will I be doomed to one irresponsible parent after another raising children who don't know not to hurt my tiny, defenseless angel?

Caution. Is this what it will be like for me if I have a second child? Will I become less watchful, and take more breaks than I do with the first? Will I rely on the first to pass manners down to the second rather than taking the time to do it myself? And what if his mother really had been trying with him, and my choice not to draw her attention just set her progress back?

Minutes later Eme was back to playing. She wouldn't get near the boy (good for her), and when he tried to come close to her (to do something else nefarious, I'm sure) she would edge behind my legs and hide from him (good for her again). She still played with the older brother, who kept trying to give her toys, and later played with a friend of hers who came to visit us, so that boy hasn't made her scared of all boys.

Those two little finger marks, though. I felt like they were staring at me all day. I told Andreas about it when he got home and he said he would have pushed the little boy away (rather than my slightly more gentle "pulling away of his hand and chastising" method). Would that really have helped matters?

My experience with Emelie is that she learns from everything we do. We model eating with a fork, she figures out how to eat with a fork. We model affection towards eachother -- lots of hugs and kisses in this house -- and Eme is affectionate towards us. Even if she doesn't know what the words mean, we have to model that it's not okay to hurt others.

What did Eme learn? Did my modeling of how to behave to a bully teach her the good manners that I'm trying to impart, or did the bully's behavior teach her that you have to pinch first or risk being pinched? What did the boy's mother's non-intervention teach him? That it's okay to just pinch whomever you want?

And if she had pinched him back, would I have stopped her?

Yes. No matter how satisfying it would have felt to let her make good on those two little red welts he gave her, I would have stopped her. I like to think I would have stopped my conversation and come over and told her that "we don't pinch." Granted, this is a fantasy -- I might not have even seen it happen and so wouldn't have known to do this -- but it's my fantasy and I choose that this is what I would have done.

I'm sorry, boy at the library, that your mommy, for whatever reason, wasn't able to do this for you. I'm sorry, mommy of the boy at the library, that you come out so badly in my story when you might not be bad at all. I'm sorry, Eme, that there are boys at the library who don't know manners, and that there will be lots of boys and girls, men and women, whom you will meet throughout life with the same problem.

I'll do my best to make sure you're not one of them. We can each only do our best.

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