Growing up and letting go

One morning earlier this week I was dropping the boy off at daycare. As we got out of the vehicle, these 2 little boys were walking with their teacher to the bus, getting ready to go to school. From the time they exited the daycare to the time they got on the bus, they were screaming across the parking lot, “Stinky Braden! Stinky Braden! Stinky Braden!” and just laughing their little heads off. I have no idea why they were calling him stinky. I thought to myself, “Maybe they are his friends and this is some sort of funny, inside joke.” I look down and he wasn’t smiling. He was frowning and looking at them as if he didn’t understand why they were calling him stinky. I realized that he knew they were making fun of him and it made me angry. Extremely angry. I said, “Oh, that’s REAL nice,” but I’m sure they didn’t understand my sarcasm. I turned to Braden and loudly said, “Gosh, Braden, I hope you don’t say things like that because that’s really naughty.” They were too busy laughing and yelling to even hear what I said. At that point the teacher finally turned his attention to them and his only admonition was, “Boys…” They got on the bus and left and I took Braden to his class and left for work. But I was furious and I stewed about it all day long. I called my husband and he stewed about it. I realize that as we grow up in life, we all get made fun of for one reason or another and it’s not necessarily something I’m trying to protect him from (just as when they are toddlers and you let them fall down and get hurt – not seriously hurt – so that when they are older they don’t completely fall apart at the slightest little pain). Yes, it stings, but it’s something we all have to learn how to handle. However, at the same time, we are trying to raise him to be nice and considerate of others and it would have been nice for him to see that if you DO choose to make fun of others, there will be consequences. All he learned in this case if that you can make fun of someone and get away with it. So when I picked him up from daycare I spoke to the director and got it all off my chest. She said she had a pretty good idea which little boys it was and that she would talk to their mothers and the teacher who drove them to school. That made me feel a little better, but now I have to deal with the fact that I was so angry that I actually WANTED to go kick some little 5 year-old asses. I wouldn’t have done that, obviously, but I so wanted to.

What’s the whole point to this post? I dunno, other than to say that sometimes it’s painful being a parent. It hurts to let go and let them grow. And it hurts to see them hurt, even when you know it’s going to happen sooner or later. But it's still worth it.