Fury

Greyson got bullied at the playground yesterday. We were at his favorite playground at Tanforan Mall. I try and take him there once a week. He crawls at top speed through the tunnels and play structures with big smiles and loud squeals. It's his favorite place to play. I'm always vigilant because he's usually one of the few crawlers there and can easily get run over by the older kids. I'm never more than a second away. Yesterday some older kids decided to bully my little one. I noticed these two kids starting to hound Greyson, chasing him, almost at his heels. They'd stand over him, scowling, not letting him pass, or cutting him off at tunnels. I gave them a few minutes, giving them the benefit of the doubt that they might just be playing rough. It was soon very clear they were just bullies, I intervened and said some very firm words. They stopped. After that, Greyson went to play with these two huge horses that he thinks are dogs. Behold, another little boy donning a Spiderman shirt came and started harassing him, jumping on whichever horse Grey wanted, getting menacingly close, all with me standing right there. I didn't let it go on for more than a minute. I stepped in and again, and told that kid off. I was very careful, both times, not to yell, but it took all the self-control in me not to pick those kids up and hurl them out of the playground.

The most heartbreaking part of it all, for me, was watching Greyson's reaction. He was so excited to play with them, he didn't know to expect anything less than good intention. He looked at those kids, and then at me, with this confused, bewildered face as if asking me, "Why Mama, why are they doing this?" He couldn't understand, why this play felt...different. Usually he plays at Tanforan for about half an hour. Yesterday he was done in 15 minutes. He came crawling and wanted "up." I held him for a while, then tried to get him to go play again, but he wouldn't. Whining, he held on tight. That is so not my child. Greyson is fearless, and so social, it takes so a lot for him to decide not to play. He never cried once, even when one of the kids got so close they bumped heads, but I know he felt it. I took him walking around the mall after that to see if he would pull me back towards the playground, which he always does, but he didn't. He just walked quietly past it on our way back to the car, my loud, jovial son, quiet as a mouse.

Hell hath no fury like the mother of a threatened child. I didn't know what to do with the rage that I felt inside me all day, and even now as I write this. I know it was minor, just a run in on the playground and it's not like Greyson was hurt. I don't know what I'll do if he gets older and gets bullied at school, or the first time someone actually intentionally takes advantage of him or hurts him. There will be bigger incidences, there will be greater challenges. This was my first taste of parental rage; that sense of violation when your child has been hurt, that sense of being willing to do anything, to protect your child, that sense of trembling helplessness knowing that you won't always succeed.