Three times her mother took her out and began carrying her, dragging her, pleading with her to go inside. Three times she broke away. I expected to hear the mother screaming, too, half-expected to see a rain of blows come down on the child. In fact, her mother spanked her once, twice, with open hand to the bottom, as best as she could reach. But, while her mother tried to manage her and a shoulder bag, the squirming girl had two arms and two feet to fight with. She fell limp, then stiffened, pulled three different directions, then fell to the pavement again.

I remember how frustrating and terrifying it was to deal with a difficult child. I remember that it was always easy to judge what another parent should do with the god-awful screaming kid in the middle of the store. "Why, if that child were mine. . ." I'd fume. Then I had kids of my own and realized that it isn't at all easy. You're not allowed to let your anger get control, you have to be calm and loving, even when you don't feel that way. How to discipline and how much and where are questions that are a lot easier to deal with objectively than in the heat of battle. I was lucky - my kids were mostly great. The occasions when they acted out were few and nothing like what I had just witnessed, nothing like the full-throated rage erupting the parking lot.

The miniature adult had won. She opened the van door, climbed into her car seat and watched as her mother cried in defeat. A neighbor appeared, a woman a little older, probably a little more experienced, came up to the mother, hugged her and stroked her hair. She understood what happened, understood the helplessness. This woman comforted the mother, then came around to the side, reached in and carried the child out. The girl still fought, but this time, the adult was stronger and she found herself over one shoulder as the two women walked toward their building.

I thought the mother brave, because she didn't give in to her anger. I thought of the woman recently caught on video tape, beating her child over and over, and knew that I could easily have witnessed a similar episode. But the mother was a loving adult. A tired, defeated, weary, scared parent who reached the end of her rope and didn't know what else to do. A neighbor came along and gave her comfort and help - an alliance against the tyranny of a three year old's rage. How helpless we can feel in the face of those we love the most, how vulnerable - and how wonderful it is when someone is there to step for a moment and lighten the load.
8:35:28 AM    Comments?()