Watch out, she’s angry.
October 4, 2006Last weekend we went to Ikea, because we hate ourselves and like to ruin our weekends. We put Henry in the playroom, where he romped and hid in giant shoes (there are giant shoes) and apparently he watched a movie in which a cook whipped a little girl. This is what the Ikeans show our children. And that’s not even what I’m mad about.
So when we were done remembering why we hate going to Ikea, Scott went to see if the chair we were going to purchase would fit in our car (it wouldn’t) while I picked up Henry. It was by now lunchtime and Henry, crazed by the ball pit and the (animated) whipping of youngsters, worked himself up into a froth about how hungry he was, how very very hungry. So I dragged him to the café.
My brain kept telling me not to do this. “Go to the car,” it said. “No café. He’s too hungry. Get him home and give him the same damn thing he always eats. He’s not going to like it in there. Hellooo. Am I talking to myself, over here?”
Yes! Because we were already in the café, and Henry was already having a meltdown.
We were on line, and Henry was in a puddle around my feet, shrieking, for no apparent reason. Or for these reasons: because there were so many, many balls, and was that his new home, maybe? With the oversized clogs? But no, now he was in this loud bustling place with all the clattering of the silverware and he was hungry NOW but wanted to go home NOW and CAN’T. DO BOTH. ERROR. ERROR.
So while he was shorting out beneath me, the two women in front of me did the very best thing any human beings can do, and this is the subject of this post, so pay attention!
They turned around, and laughed in his face.
One of them shrieked, “DON’T BE SAD, PRETTY BOY! WHATSAMATTA?”
Henry turned absolutely white with terror and began climbing me, using his talon-like nails. I tried to pick him up, but then he went boneless again and sobbed against my ankles.
“He’s having a rough time, so if you could--” I started, motioning at her to turn around.
One of them bent over to thrust her horrific visage into his. “GIVE ME A SMILE!” she suggested.
“Leave me alone!” Henry shouted, with tears streaming down his face. And they both laughed again. One of them continued to provide helpful suggestions to him (“ISN’T SMILING BETTER THAN SILLY CRYING? YOU CAN’T BE SAD ON THIS BEAUTIFUL DAY!”) while I dragged Henry out of the line and away and he shouted preschooler invective at them. (I believe he called them both poopyhead. I’d say he had a point.)
So, okay, an isolated incident, maybe? Two assholes bitter that their Swedish meatballs and lingonberry sauce were taking too long, seeking revenge on the youth of today?
But no! Because! Just two days later, at the playground, it happened again.
Henry was having a hard time making inroads with the other children, all of whom paired off according to some mysterious, prearranged order. Then he spotted a group of older kids. They were either eight or 21. Probably somewhere in the middle. They were sitting at the top of a slide, drinking soda and chewing gum, feeling dangerous. Henry was entranced. Before I could stop him, he was right there, standing outside their circle. I watched. Sometimes older kids are nice! Maybe!
The ignoring that ensued was brief but painful, as Henry repeatedly attempted to introduce himself and I considered tearing their lungs out through their mouths. Too much?
After he walked away from them, he looked over at me and started to cry.
“No one wants to know my name,” he called out, weeping. And two women standing right by him—c’mon, guess!
Guess!
They didn’t just laugh—they laughed their asses off. They thought that was the funniest damn thing they ever heard. Such a cute little kid! So clever! With the stringing the words together! Just like a person!
Which of course set him off even more. The two of them tried to direct more commentary at me about my funny kid with his funny feelings while I dealt with my son, who was dissolving completely into the soil.
This happens to us not infrequently, and I’m sure we’re not the only people. I mean, yes, sometimes Henry can be jollied out of a funk, and sometimes strangers do that with remarkable aplomb, but this is not that. This is not a sympathetic smile or comment, it’s mockery. It’s insensitive to the point of being cruel.
At the very least, these people should figure out that their charm is not having the desired effect, and at the most, shouldn’t they respect someone’s feelings? If you saw an adult crying in public, would you point and laugh? Don’t preschoolers deserve the same courtesy?
What on earth is wrong with people?
Reader Comments (111)
We've all got our two-by-fours at the ready on Henry's behalf, Alice.
HATE. HATE!
It was one of the wierdest interactions I've ever seen in my life. He's going to take him home? How did he think that would help?
So then I had Max tired, mad and now also terrified and crying hysterically. Not only that, the comment scared the crap out of Madison and she started crying too and the whole way home I explained over and over that some people have terrible senses of humor and he was just kidding.
No, he's really not going to take you home.
Not exactly the same thing but still can't adults read the context clues in any given situation? I appreciate your attempt to 'diffuse' things but once you try and you see my child responding in an even more negative way maybe change your tactic to say, 'minding your own business'?
The best we can hope is that they'll all grow up to work in the IKEA cafeteria, and go home at the end of the day with lingonberry sauce in their hair, lingonberry sauce that won't come out no matter how many baths they try and take.
Once, when an obnoxious man took it upon himself to give my then two-year-old daughter a condescending lecture on her bahavior in the grocery store, I had a little fantasy.
It went something like this:
"HELP! SECURITY! CALL THE POLICE!You monster, get away from my child, you horrible pervert! Aieeee!
(Me clutching confused child and backing away as away the hapless man protests his innocence...)
Of course, I didn't actually do this. I just gave him a dirty look and walked away with child-in-tow. Still it made me smile plotting imaginary and overblown revenge.
Like I said, nightmare. I totally remember being a child and having people react to me in this manner, too. Henry was right on to call them poopy-heads. I hope he also told them they had pee... on their... feet. (Yes!)
sometimes laughing it off is a good thing.
and really, if a child is throwing a major tantrum in a public place, it's not unlikely that it will invite some type of response.
i'd take someone trying (badly) to cheer up my daughter than any type of stranger offering scoldings or nasty comments.
People are idiots.
I hate those moments at the park. My son is 3, and he's just started learning that not everyone wants to play with him. One girl said that right to his face, and I think it's giving him some sort of complex. Now a ton of his imaginary play at home is me pretending to be a kid at the playground and we practice introducing ourselves to each other... :P
The thing is, he doesn't even need practice! He's really good at it. But sometimes 8 year old girls are just not nice people, especially if you're a 3 year old boy asking to be friends. I could push her off the slide too.
Poor Henry. What misery for a little kid. I guess all that matters (or all that you can take from the situation) is that he sees that you're on his side when he's absolutely not in the wrong.
These people are very very angry.
Now, as adults, only one of my three sisters has children and she won't let Granny anywhere near them except at big family functions where she can keep a close eye. We support her on this decision and I have more than once told her that my nieces are not to be taunted.
alice: you're right. there's a difference between trying to "help" and downright mockery. i myself have made silly faces at one or two little ones in the midst of a tantrum. (always from a distance and never for longer than a second.) but usually i'll get a giggle from the child and not the "poo-head" treatment :)
i just don't think the mothers at the playground meant any harm. they clearly don't know your child and didn't understand the sensitivity of the situation.
but it's true, in real life, not everyone will want to play with you. it's ok to learn shitty lessons once in a while--even if it comes from nasty eight-year-olds.
We are a society of crueler, less civilized people.
The kids at the playground are not being properly taught how to treat other people (regardless of age). The adults with the relentless need to mock and laugh idiotically: they are the ones doing the teaching and being the example. It explains a lot.
People may think I'm crazy, but I just think there are a lot of badly behaved adults raising even more-badly behaved kids. It's a fact, and I'm sorry Henry (or any 4 year-old) would be treated this way.