"I'm setting a bad example for Arthur by not speaking up when someone does that to him.  It's my job to set that boundary for him and I failed.  Ugh I'm failing as a mother."

 

I texted my sister to let off some steam after leaving the playground last Wednesday. I was upset at myself and upset at the situation.  Bearing witness to someone crossing my son's boundaries felt remarkably like having my own boundaries crossed.  And my reaction was similar as well.  My sister reminded me to give myself some grace.

 

We’d all been playing peacefully in the tot lot. There were a few toddlers just learning to walk.  A few parents and caretakers trying to strike a balance between giving these new walkers some freedom and keeping them safe from harm.  And then an older boy, maybe 7 or 8 swooped onto the scene.

 

He made his entrance by running up to a baby girl and yelling "I'm gonna take your green ball!" just before he swiped the ball from her hands.

 

As he stood nearby, trying to bounce her ball as high as he could, I turned to her grandmother and said, "did he just take a ball from a baby?"  Her grandma replied, "well he did say that he was going to take it".

 

I stood dumbfounded. It's one thing for a toddler to steal a ball from another toddler. That happens all the time.  But older kids stealing from babies!  I couldn't believe it was happening at our tot lot, and I couldn't believe that all the other parents were just ignoring what was happening.

 

"If that were my baby," I thought to myself, "I would have said something to him."

 

Later that morning, while I was kneeling next to my 13-month-old, that same boy walked over to us. 

 

 "You're a cool baby" he said to my boy as he grabbed my son's backward-facing hat to turn it forward, then backward again. I saw my son's look of confusion, but I froze and said nothing.

 

My silence was deafening.

 

Then the boy took my hat off and put it on backwards.  To which I responded "I'm not a cool baby" as I returned my hat to its original position.

 

The boy was gone just as quickly as he'd appeared. That was it. I vowed to do better next time.

 

My sister suggested a few potential responses that sounded good, and I crafted up a few of my own.  Then I stared at them for a few minutes and said them out loud.

 

Out loud was the important part.  My throat had to get comfortable letting these kinds of words pass through it.  My mouth had to let the words out.  My ears had to hear them. 

 

Sometimes you stay silent about your boundaries for so long that your mouth can't even get the words out.  Sometimes having your boundaries crossed silences you in such a way that you feel it's pointless to express any boundaries in the future. 

 

So I practiced.

 

Please don't touch his hat.

Please don't touch my hat.

Hey, this is my personal space!

Please keep your hands to yourself.

 

It felt awkward as hell but it was worth it.

 

Today I am beaming with pride because my reflection and preparation paid off.

 

Just one week later, the same 8-year-old who turned our hats around last week walked up to my son and tried to hold his hand. As my son pulled away, I said "it doesn't look like he wants to hold your hand."  The boy stopped trying to hold my son's hand and I asked the boy's name.  His name was Rowan.  I said hello and introduced him to my little boy.

 

Shortly after, an older kid walked up to my baby at the park and poured a bucket of water down his back. I said "Stop. You can't do this. You don't know if he wants to get wet."

 

Half of the water remained in the bucket, and the vocalization of my boundary opened up a conversation with other parents nearby about the ways these few kids have been crossing their own children's boundaries.  When I heard another mom saying "stop" to the older boy who was pouring water on her toddler, I realized my courage was contagious.

 

I was practically prancing as I pushed the stroller back home for nap time.  There is nothing more gratifying than being given a second chance and making that second chance a smashing success.