Pumpkin and I just got home from the library. It seems to be a Wednesday thing now, the library visit. While we were browsing the children’s books in the play area, a littler dude – probably around two years old – tried to take Pumpkin’s book. Then he hit her on the head.
His mother looked MORTIFIED. Immediately, she apologized to me and my daughter, pulled her son aside and sternly told him that hitting was not okay, and then apologized to me again.
And I was okay with it. Pumpkin wasn’t hurt (it was a light swat to the noggin with no real force behind it – barely even ruffled her hair), the mom was apologetic, the mom asked her kid to apologize. I mean, she did everything I would have expected a mom to do and I was grateful for that. Kids are kids, and sometimes the young ones hit.
But there’s always a sense of “WHEW” when it’s not my child acting out. It’s funny how when it’s my child behaving…not nicely… I want nothing more than to just crawl into a hole, but when I’m on the other side of it, it’s different.
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