Kids cry. Sometimes they cry because they fall. Sometimes they cry because they are tired. Sometimes because they struggle to share with a sibling. Sometimes they cry because I’ve told them they must do something like eat dinner, or wear pants, or go to bed. Sometimes it’s because I’ve told them not to do something like climb on the countertops, or sit on their sister, or use the bookshelf as a ladder. And I get it. Emotions are new and strong and sometimes the only way to deal with the excess of emotion- or exhaustion- is to let it leak out their eyes, accompanied by loud ear-piercing wails of turmoil.

Such is the life when you’re 2… or 4… or let’s face it – when you’re 30+.

I do recognize that children are children and sometimes they have a bit of “the lord of the flies” to navigate. There are times when they will be hurt, or cry, or be mad and upset and it’s ok. That’s part of them maturing and figuring out how to respond to frustration. Some of it will be warranted – like someone took their ball, or pushed them, or told them they couldn’t play. Some will not – like someone looked at them, or was breathing their air, or said their name too loudly.

But, when I interpret someone’s behavior towards my children as malicious, insensitive, demeaning, controlling, or really anything I deem unacceptable – whether or not it actually was – my claws come out and you will be introduced to a extremely protective and uninhibited mother.

Like when an adult made fun of my son for having his fingernails painted. Or when someone tried to physically force my son into a hug and/or a kiss and this said son didn’t want to. Or when someone told my son he needed to chill out because he was “freaking out” about finding Easter eggs. Or the time when we were at a highschool freshman soccer game and some 6’5” 50+ year old guy told my son the baseball cap he was wearing had the wrong team’s logo on it. It’s a side of me that surprises most people. And that’s kind of the point. These are my children and it is my priority to protect them – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. And trust me, I will. Just try me.

But to the little boy who made my son cry at the playground, I need to say thank you. Thank you for providing the backdrop for a wonderful lesson a few days later.

We were at a little park and Mister and Tudders were enjoying having it to themselves – running up the stairs and going down the slide. They were the only ones there for a while and when another little family showed up my boys were excited for some new friends to join them. Mister is very friendly and social, and has very little fear when it comes to other children. He will walk right up, ask their name, take their hand and lead them into whatever game he and Tudders are playing. And the same was true this particular day. My radar becomes a little more sensitive when others are around and I go on a “higher” alert – not Red Alert yet, just more attentive.

As it is with children, so it is with mine. Mister and this new little friend were navigating the games they were trying to merge and trying to find a balance between their preferences, their background knowledge, their idea of how the game should go. This new little boy wanted Mister to be Papa Troll (from Frozen I presume) and Mister was just as adamant that he not be Papa Troll. Unfortunately, neither were flexible and thus initiated the tears.

Luckily it wasn’t an all out wail but it was pretty heartfelt. Mister was upset with this little boy and the little boy was frustrated with honest befuddlement as to why someone would not want to be Papa Troll. Mister came over to the bench I had occupied and couldn’t even find the words to explain his turmoil. I had him join me and proceeded to help him through what he was feeling. He decided that he’d still like to play, still did not want to be Papa Troll and that he could play with his brother if this little boy was still set on having a Papa Troll playmate. They must have ended up discarding the previous game and went on to something else because I never heard a reference to Papa Troll again. And all was well on the playground.

A few days later we were at another park, with another little boy, and again needed to navigate the imaginative play. Although, this time the shoe was on the other foot.

Mister had recently decided he was now Flying Eagle, Tudders: Yawning Lion, and was excited to have someone else join his animal family. This time Mister was insistent that the little boy be Leaping Leopard and this little boy was very sure he should be a dinosaur. As it was before: frustration and tears ensued. This time I had to call my Flying Eagle over to join me.

For a four year old, empathy can be a difficult concept, and one that is a bit too abstract. At home we try to teach “would you like it if Tudders pushed (or bit or sat on) you? Then how about you not do that to him.” Or, you know, took your toy, ate your yogurt, with your spoon, wore your halloween costume. But for some reason it just doesn’t stick very well. Is it because they are siblings? It is a “button-pushing” tactic? Do they ever grow out of it?

Thankfully, the little boy at the park a few days ago gave me the perfect backdrop for a discussion about empathy.

“Hey, sweetie, remember when the little boy wanted you to be Papa Troll?”
“Yes.”
“And remember how that made you feel?”
“Yes, it made me sad.”
“How do you think your friend feels when you tell him to be a leopard and he doesn’t want to be?”
And it’s like something clicked!
“He feels sad!”
“You know, I bet you’re right. He wants to be a dinosaur. Do you think you can play with him and he can be a dinosaur?”
“I think so! … Hey, Friend…” and he was off.

Now, I think there was still some negotiation and this little boy may have been a leopard for a time but maybe not. Maybe it’s the few minutes Mister was removed that aided is some kind of figurative “reset”. Maybe it was this little boy’s mom and the little chat she had with her son. Whatever it was the boys decided it was time to play again and they were happy doing it.

Now I don’t think I’ve got it all figured out. I haven’t mastered enlightening my children on a daily basis. I’m sure they haven’t truly learned how to continually interact with people on an empathetic level. But I did see the light turn on. I saw a connection being made between how my son felt and how someone else was feeling. I saw him approach the situation again, but this time with an open-mindedness towards dinosaurs because he knew what it felt like to be forced into playing Papa Troll. He didn’t like that feeling and decided he didn’t want someone else to feel the same way. I am grateful for the real-life lesson provided only a few days previously. And in this situation, I need to pull my claws back in, take my alert down a notch, and express my thanks. So thank you. Really, thank you to the little boy who made my son cry.