Henry spent the first day of fall playing with his toys in the apartment, watching football with his dad, visiting playgrounds, practicing walking, eating his mom’s pumpkin bread and watching television with friends.
As indicated in the previous post, we had a nice day at the Beer Garden minus one small incident that can only be labeled my first parental heartache.
Henry is a very friendly kid and pretty good at socializing due to daycare. But his primary way to communicate right now is to loudly yell at people, thinking it means, “hi”. (Something I find endearing has been known to scare off other kids.)
This time Henry’s yells attracted a seemingly nice older boy who came up to Henry and I to show us his monster truck by running it along Henry’s arm. I asked the boy how old he was (three and a half) while he handed Henry the truck and then took it back. He ran off and came back with another car. It seemed as though he was trying to share so Henry took one of the trucks. The boy grabbed the truck back and pushed Henry on the chest, exclaiming “that’s mine!” Henry fell to the ground and cried a little bit. I tried in the least angry way I could to tell the kid something along the lines of “hey, we don’t push, you can’t do that.”
Henry was fine once removed from the situation, but that didn’t make it any easier for me. I know Henry will experience his share of pain at some point. Every kid does in one way or another. It’s just sad when it has to come before he is fully able to walk or stand up for himself. I know the other children at daycare get moody, but they don’t seem to be unkind to one another.