You know the one. When one of my girls comes home to regale some wrong done to her on the playground I want to seem positive, unflappable, like there is no other option than to believe that it’s just how kids are, how they communicate, how they jockey for position in their worlds. I want to exude it will all be okay. You are awesome. If someone doesn’t want to play with you, move on and find another friend to play with. You have many. You are the kind of girl that has good friends, that draws good people to you.
Instead, I ache over it.
I wonder how to say all of this and hide the anguish on my face. In this whole bringing-up-baby experience I don’t think I totally suck at too many things but putting on the “mom” face is one of them. I just want to crumple into a ball holding my ill-affected child and close the doors to the world outside.
Really, I know I need to get a grip. But I cling on every word, I wonder what this other child really meant by excluding my daughter and I think about the social web of my child’s life as I know it to be and I wonder how often this happens. What don’t I know? What other playground side stepping do I not hear about at home?
I take deep breaths. It doesn’t help.