We met an interesting, three-year-old boy at McDonald's today. He and his sister were already busy in the Playplace, under the supervision of an older man, probably a grandparent. Jonah, Anna, and Sarah finished their snacks quickly, and set off to play with them.
As soon as Jonah entered the playground, the boy turned on him and yelled, "You're STUPID!"
Jonah just smiled amicably. This infuriated the boy even further, and he began shouting, "Stupid, stupid, stupid
a**hole!" while his grandfather watched silently.
Having never heard these words before, Jonah understood them to be a friendly new greeting, and replied happily, "You're stupid too!"
I called him over to the table to speak privately. "Jonah, you don't say 'stupid.'"
"I don't?"
"No, that's a mean word."
He looked a bit alarmed. "But that boy said 'stupid!'"
"I know he did, but you don't. We don't use mean words."
"Okay," he said, and ran off to play.
Since the playground was small, he kept running into the boy. Again and again, as the grandfather watched, the boy shouted horrible things at Jonah for absolutely no reason. And Jonah smiled back.
Naiah (our ten-month-old) was playing on the open side of the toddler house, when the boy came over to us. He crawled into the house and looked at her through the window on which she was leaning. Then he began beating hard on the wall and window, as if he wanted to knock her down from his side. I sat next to her, just in case, and she watched him pounding the plastic with his fists.
Jonah came to sit on the other side of Naiah. He spoke to the boy through the window, "This is my brother!"
"Sister," I corrected.
"Yeah," he said smiling, as the boy continued to bang, "This is my baby sister!"
The boy stopped hitting the window and looked at Jonah. "Your baby is STUPID, a**hole!"
Jonah scowled at him for the first time. "No!" he said firmly. "You don't be mean to my sister."
The boy contemplated Jonah's demeanor for a moment, then ran off to the playground again.
How the heck did this issue come up so soon? I knew, as the kids got older, they would meet bullies and violence and cruelty. But never in my wildest dreams did I expect Jonah to be facing kids like this at the age of two! There were no strategies in place to guide me. Should I leave? Should I confront the grandpa? Should I correct the kid?
I chose to stay and see what Jonah would do, and I was so proud of him. He was unwaveringly civil-- even friendly-- to the boy, no matter what he said, and he knew when and how to draw the line. But what if the boy had hit him? What should I have taught my son then-- turn the other cheek? Run away? Hit him back? It's such a situational question that I don't think I could make a general rule... So how do I prepare him?
And the question that still nags me-- What's to become of the boy? His grandfather doesn't seem to care. Someone at home or preschool is berating him so fiercely that he can't even crack a smile at the playground. He's too angry to recognize a friendly face. And I don't even know his name.
