Last week when it rained, I went straight home from work instead of picking up the kids. I was in the kitchen fixing dinner when hubby and kids came home from the daycare center. The first thing that came out of my daughter's mouth was, "He hit Gidi!" After grilling my hubs and daughter for the details, I think I had somewhat recreated the crime scene. Please bear in mind that neither one of my witnesses were reliable: hubs picked up the kids 60 seconds after the episode, thus his testimony was pure hearsay, and my daughter's excited and joyful recounting of events consised of only five words "He hit Gidi","bump" and "toy". So here's what probably had happened: my son was playing with some toy, Gidi came and tried to take away the toy, and my son without thinking twice hit Gidi smack in the forehead. Poor child got a bump on his head the size and color of a small orange.
I thought it was just awful. I could never imagine myself being a bully's mother. I come from a family that is known for their love of books and all things peaceful, not for their fists. And now I am slowly coming to grips with the fact that my son might be less like them, the peaceful bunch. Who he is taking after is open for debate - I have my ideas, but to the mother of the kid, who also happens to be the owner of the daycare center, all these reasons and ideas don't really matter. Her little boy just got hit hard. (Just for the record, she was very understanding, but if these things keep on happening, especially to her own offspring, we might need to look for different babysitting arrangements.)
I wish the above thoughts were the first ones that came to my mind. But no...the first one was, "Thank G-d the boy can stand up for himself!" and some sense of pride, since Gidi is twice my boy's age. I am somewhat ashamed of these thoughts, but a part of me wishes that I were ashamed a little more.
Of course we had a talk that we cannot fight, even if someone is taking away our toys. But I am just not sure how much of that lecture was or could be absorbed by 18-month old mind. I am bracing myself for more of these episodes, and quite honestly I do not know how to handle them.
Okay, I got to go and beat the daylights out of a scumbag who stole my boxes (true story).