The blame game

It's so easy to look at other parents and mentally point an accusing finger, have you ever noticed that? There was a mom and her little boy at the park this afternoon and her little boy ran over and started playing with Sabrina's sand toys. No big deal, it's totally park etiquette to allow other kids to play with your sand toys and to let your kid play with theirs. It's one of those unspoken rules at the playground. So when Sabrina protested, as I knew she would, I pointed out that she wasn't even playing with them, she was climbing on the playground.

Naturally, she was instantly interested in playing with them again, so the other mom and I did the "Now, let's share" talk with the kids, in that slightly higher-pitched voice we all get when we are being preachy to our children around other parents. Well, soon enough it was getting chilly and it was about dinnertime, so I said it was time to go. And the other mom said it was time for them to go too, and could Brandon (her son) please give back the sand toys. Of course he didn't want to, and it was actually pretty cute, because he would set the sand buckets down at my feet obediently, but then you could tell he just couldn't bear to part with them, because then he would pick them back up and move a few feet away with them. Then, with urging from his mother, he'd bring them back, set them down in front of me, and then quickly snatch them back up and look at me beseechingly. This went on for several minutes. Well, I couldn't very well just let him have them, and Sabrina was watching all of this quizzically from on top of the slide, where she had retreated when I announced it was time to go.

So I patiently waited for the mother to step in, take the buckets, hand them to me, and collect her son. Which she never did. Instead, she stood nearby and half-laughed, half-pleaded with her son to give me the toys so they could leave. So, since I was getting tired, Nathan was getting cold, and Sabrina was starting to look a little concerned that I might actually give in and let him have the toys, I had to gently pry the bucket handles from the boy and tell him thank you for playing with us, but we were going home now. Which caused the inevitable protest and crying on his part, but I was able to at least collect Sabrina, the toys, and Nathan, and head to the car.

Which just so happened to be parked next to the car of Brandon and his mommy, who also decided to leave. I stood Sabrina on the sidewalk with instructions to wait for me while I put the sand toys away in the trunk and put Nathan in his car seat. Then I came back around to collect Sabrina, who was having sort of a stand off with the little boy on the sidewalk, with both of them staring somewhat frostily at each other. But the minute he saw my keys in my hand, little Brandon forgot all about Sabrina and came running up to me, holding out his hand for my keys and whining something I couldn't understand. I held the keys aloft and looked at his mother for help, who shrugged and said "Oh, he loves keys. Don't let him have your keys, you'll never get them back."

Okay, fine. So I scooped up Sabrina with one arm and continued to hold the keys out of the reach of Brandon, who was now lunging for them. And I swear to god, that kid followed me as I stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot to put Sabrina in her car seat. And his mother let him. She only came over to get him when he was standing right by the car door and I was going to hit him in the head with the door by opening it if he didn't move. (Okay, so it occurred to me, but I did not hit him in the head with the door. I promise.)

Anyway, I got Sabrina in the car and we came home. But I don't know, that mother just seemed at a loss most of the time, like someone had only recently dumped this kid in her lap and she was still getting the lay of the land on how to deal with this strange creature. Which I know isn't true because she referred to herself as Mommy more than once. So you'd think, wouldn't you, that she would have a better handle on how to deal with this little boy who was not behaving badly, I'm not trying to say that, he just wanted these things, and wanted them badly.

Again, I don't know. And again, it's so easy to point a finger and say "What's up with that parent?" and feel all smug and proud, like you are freaking Parent of the Year all the time. When the fact is, who knows what other parents were thinking about you at the same time. It's enough to make you feel proud and ashamed, all at once.