Thursday, March 26, 2015


At bedtime tonight just as the nightly reading is done and the lights are turned off, Aidan says in a hushed voice "there is a war going on in my class but my teacher  doesn't know about it." 

He goes on to explain that the boys in the class seem to be getting a little playfully rough with each other, "crushing" each other on purpose. Now Aidan is a not really a rough and tumble kind of kid. He has managed this far in life to avoid the boys when they are kicking about on the play mat in spite of fretting preschool teachers trying to pull them apart. So to Aidan is a big deal. He is apparently conjuring up tips and strategies from his friends on how to "battle" with the others. One kid has offered to train him up to be just like him, like an apprentice. Another has been conspiring with him to get a "bomb" or "campfire" into the classroom, both ideas he scoffed at, thankfully. 

My panic parent mode is trying hard to hold back from picking up the phone and calling his teacher to put a stop to all of this. But I can't, he is figuring it out on his own. So, in the style of trying not to lecture but I am voice, I reminded him that he doesn't need to change to be like anyone else and that he too has tips to share for his friends. And if something goes from fun play to hurting, yes, he knows. Tell them to stop. But what he didn't know was that he needed to say it like he says it to Tenley. That somehow clicked for him, he liked that. Eyes sparkling, smile on his face, he was again listening to me, even though it was at the expense of his sister. 

I may still call but I'll probably wait a day or two. 

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