Clique to continue

I recently happened upon this blog entry from a woman whose three-year old son was being bullied at preschool. Preschool bullies you say? How can that be? What could possibly be going through a three year-old’s mind that he has to assert his dominance over another three year-old?

The writer, Emily, goes on in further entries to explain how the bully, while not physically abusive, has learned the power of inclusion and exclusion and has created his own little preschool clique. He tells the other kids who they should and should not play with, and unfortunately for Emily’s son, the bouncer has stopped him at the door and has refused entry into the club for reasons the child can’t comprehend. One day he was on the A-list and now he’s not.

I really admire how Emily has handled this situation; first trying to address the problem with the preschool teacher, the boy’s uncooperative mother and then simply explaining to her son that not everyone will like you all the time. From what Emily writes, her son has accepted this, but it’s a hard lesson to learn at any age.

I don’t know if I would have shown as much grace and maturity if I had been in Emily’s shoes and Autumn was the child being excluded at school. In spite of being almost 36 years old, I still do not know how to play well with others. I’m fine in groups of people, but I’m socially retarded when it comes to forging actual true friendships. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to say to Autumn if she had been hurt and made to feel excluded. My gut reaction would be to say, “to hell with them!” but I don’t think that’s the kind of response that turns a situation like this into a valuable learning experience for the child.

Of course this all goes back to my teenage years when I had a best friend and lost her to her new best friend and the pain and betrayal I felt at not being a part of her life anymore was devastating. After that, I decided that having friends was fine, but so was not having friends. I just wasn’t going to get that invested anymore. You’d think after 20 years I’d just get over it already, and this is exactly the kind of baggage I fear will make me a less effective parent.

I’m going to screw Autumn up. That much I’ve accepted, but one thing I’ve learned since she was born is that I still have the ability to surprise myself. In spite of the trust issues and the self pity and still being unsuccessful at making friends and keeping them, I’m very slowly taking baby steps towards being less socially retarded. I talk to other parents in stores and at the playground and am this close to setting up a play date with one of the moms from Kindermusik. Some day I might even make another friend or two and actually keep them. Hopefully by recognizing my own flaws and the emotional issues behind them, I’ll be able to help Autumn grow in ways I never did.

But then I look at her and my heart overflows and I start to feel silly about thinking how anyone could not love this child.

It seems impossible.