As Seb was coming out of nursery this afternoon another child ran up to him and shoved him over. When he got up the child, (for argument's sake let's call him shit-head), growled and then pushed him down again. I couldn't get to Seb to stop this happening as shit-head's mother was in the way and she is the size of a hippo.
Not the end of the world and as I type and re-read that first paragraph I'm wondering why I have been in such a state of shock for the last hour or so. I think it is just that (a) he's my baby (b) it was deliberate and malicious and (c) this is my second time as a parent through nursery and that sort of behaviour is pretty uncommon.
I'm a snob; and I'm the first to admit that I had previously earmarked shit-head (SH) and his hippo mother (HM) as not really the sort of people I choose to share nursery/playground/air with and it seems my bigoted pre-conceptions were well-founded.
What surprises me however is my reaction. I'm no shrinking violet (no really) but when I was left alone with HM and Seb in a small enclosed space while SH was having time-out back in his classroom, I said nothing. N-oth-ing. Nowt, nada, not a frickin' word. HM didn't shut up. On and on crapped she to my deliberate back about how SH wasn't going to have any lego/treats/tv when he got home because of this. "I don't fucking care!", I should've been screaming, "he shouldn't be allowed out in public if he behaves like that!" Even a swift kick in the fanny would've done. So why oh why did I say nothing. If I was lying to you I would say that I didn't want to start a confrontation in front of Sebi. In fact, that sounds great, let's go with that one. Although that may be partly true, I don't think that's the whole story. Is it because there was no wine in my belly? Again no. Although I do a good line in trashy arguments when drunk, I've also been known to take people to task when I'm sober. Maybe at long last my civilised-middle-class-mother's-genes are gaining superiority in my personality over my bulshy-get-into-trouble-at-every-opportunity-father's-genes? Or maybe, the sad truth is that I knew that if I looked at HM, or opened my mouth, I was going to cry because someone had shoved my baby over and I hadn't been able to stop it. I think we should abbreviate me from here on in to SC (Sad Cow).
I had a quick chat with nursery's second-in-command where I blubbed like a fool while she made nice reassuring noises at me. The nursery teacher was free to speak to me in five minutes time so I took a brief stroll around the playground with (by now totally unscathed) Sebi to regain my composure and go back and have a chat as one professional to another (oh yes, they know I'm a teacher by trade). When I went back I blubbed some more. The teacher was very nice to me, assuring me that SH's behaviour was improved since starting nursery (!). I could've learnt a lot from her demeanour in my dealings with blubbing parents when I was Head of Year. Seb and I left before it became embarrassing for all of us.
I need to man up, a lot, quickly. I am fully aware that worse stuff than that is going to happen to my boys over the years. At this rate however their most serious problem is going to be the shame of their mother howling in public.
For now, I'm going to have a bath, a gin and tonic and a curry out with my husband to restore my equilibrium and banish the unwanted SC from my persona.
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