My son, ninety five percent of the time is a really loving and empathetic child. He loves a cuddle, a big snotty kiss goodbye, a snuggle up on the sofa. He’s kind to his animals, he’ll kiss you better when you stumble over his train track, he’ll share his biscuits when asked. He is by nature, a kind soul.
However, every now and then – every 5% of the time my son goes fucking feral. Maybe he’s just too good, reaches his limit and needs to go bat shit crazy to release his inner demons, I don’t know.
Case in point, last week when upon Nursery pick up my husband was summoned to sign an Incident Form, because our darling boy had held his best friend in a headlock and wouldn’t let go.
Not only did he hold this kid down like Hulk Hogan high on Meth, he then refused to apologise and kept shuffling out of the ‘quiet corner’ where he been put to consider what he’d done.
I was literally mortified and thanking every God under the Sun that I wasn’t the one picking him up that day. I mean what do you say? Do you say sorry? I’m sorry my child is a complete dick? I’m sorry my kid is such an arsehole? I was bloody awake at 3am with the Mummy Guilt going round and round.
Obviously something went on to kick it all off, I don’t know what exactly but there was no mention of him being provoked. I can only assume his friend had something he wanted or wasn’t doing what he wanted and so Finley completely lost his shit and went WWF on his arse. Which is completely unacceptable but what can I do about it now? Not having been there in the moment, what am I supposed to do retrospectively? This was something that happened five/ six hours ago which is an age in toddler land. No point in telling him off now, he wont link the cause and effect.
So when he was in the bath I just asked him some general questions about his day, did he eat all his dinner? did he have a nice nap? He chats away to me for a bit, unsuspecting.
Then I ask ‘ Did you see Freddie today?’ (the one he beat up)
‘NO ‘, he says accompanied with an eye roll up towards the ceiling.
Bam! I’ve got you, you little toad! You know exactly what you did and that its bad because your lying to your Mummy from the very first question.
‘Did you make your friend cry today?’
‘NO’ he says raising his voice.
‘Did you hurt your friend today?’
‘NO’ he says squirming.
Caught myself a wriggler, he knows I know.
‘Its not nice when people cry is it?’ Not a word from him.
‘Its not very kind to hurt people, it makes them sad’ Not a peep.
At this point I let it go, I’ve done my best at this late stage to let him know that I know what he did and try to make him feel shitty about it. We go put his pajamas on, I get his warm milk and we snuggle up on the sofa to watch Puffin Rock. After about 20 minutes, he’s sitting on my lap, very quiet, he turns his head to me, cups my face in his hands and all sad voiced says
Thank fuck for that, my faith is restored. I nearly jumped for joy but managed to control myself. He’s not some violent lunatic after all. He’s not gone completely feral!
And therefore by default – I am not a completely useless parent after all ! Woohoo!