All I see is a boy push E. And E gets up and goes running off. I find E and ask what happen as we walk over to the other boy talking to his mom.
Me: I wanted to come over to see what happened so E and your boy could talk it out.
E begins talking to the boy with my encouragement.
Boy’s mom: My son said something about being worried that he (motioning to my son) would throw sand at R (who I assume is the boy’s sister).
During this interaction, E runs off with his shovel and proceeds to throw sand. Sand that is nowhere near the pushing incident. The pushing occurs on GRASS.
Boy’s mom: I don’t know THAT BOY’s name but I think the problem is him throwing sand.
And I think: THAT BOY is MY SON who came from MY WOMB. And your son PUSHED him. And where were you when the ten-child-pile-up occurred on the slide because YOUR SON insisted on going up the slide. Oh and I’LL KILL YOU.
But I don’t say anything nor do I maim her. Because now E is throwing sand near other children and I have to stop him.
I take E’s shovel away and explain why. But I also tell him that the other boy should not have pushed him. I let E know that I believe his version of the story (the boy CRASHED me).
I spend the next hour throwing dirty looks at the other boy’s mom and making fun of her hat. To myself. And now to my blog.
Making fun of the hat doesn’t help. I actually am sadden by how easy it is to hate the other mom. How much I want to judge her parenting abilities based on two interactions with her and her son (and her hat). How afraid I am that she is judging mine.
I also realize that being a helicopter mom has its seedy side. By intervening so quickly, E is NEVER AT FAULT. I miss this self-righteousness now that he’s more independent on the playground. Now that I have two children to helicopter around. Now that I can’t prove he did not throw sand.
But before we leave, another conversation occurs (with the other boy’s sister and her friends. Complete coincidence. Seriously. I didn’t know until AFTER this conversation that she is apart of the infamous PUSHING BAD HAT FAMILY. I am too busy staring down a boy and a mom to figure out who R is):
A little girl doesn’t believe the cup is my son’s. She exclaims: IT’S PINK!
After explaining that we all like different colors and don’t you like blue and green, I say as I walk away: It’s just society trying to color-code you.
I didn’t plan the conversation, but I feel better afterwards. I guess when I am true to myself, I don’t have to judge others. Except, I also learned on the very same day that lying to myself about being sick makes me a better mom.
Well, good morning and good luck with that life lesson.