Down, Mama Bear
These males I live with are funny. They require a very direct approach. Most of the time, I find this really refreshing. For instance, generally, they are immune to manipulation. So, when I want them to do something, I have to first get their attention and then be super direct about the subject at hand.
But, I fear that after all of these years of shooting from the hip with my boys, that I may have lost a trait that I have many times heard nice people refer to me as. What trait? Actually, it really isn’t a trait that I possess. They say that I am sweet. I always defer — not out of false modesty, either. The reason that I defer is because I see myself from the inside and therefore know that sweet is many times not even in the same dimension as I am. But, I suppose that the little girl voice and the southern accent contribute. And yet, even with accent and little girl voice in place, I think that the perceived sweetness might be bleeding out a bit.
Why do I say this? Well, a couple of weeks ago at the pool, I went on a search for J. I couldn’t find him. Not that I was worried. It is just that he only comes up for air the whole time that we’re there, and so I have to look carefully for a while before I see his head bobbing up. I passed my youngest in my trek across the pool and asked if he had seen J. He hadn’t. So we walked along together as I continued my search. I had just decided to go and look in the large pool when I heard what sounded like J over to my left. I turned and didn’t see anyone. A few seconds later, I saw him break the surface of the water with not one, but 2 little boys clinging to him — one of them was firmly grasping J by the hair. I was over to them in what felt like a fraction of a second. J began telling me how these little boys had been messing with him. I was inclined to believe him since the one little boy still had a grip on J. I could see that his scalp was bright red underneath his hair.
So, I wondered a few things. Things like how come J didn’t give these little boys the slip. He is built like a bull ox and is twice as strong. I also wondered about the lifeguards that encircle the pool. Maybe they were not observing all that they could? You think?
I bent over. I placed one finger lightly on the little boy’s arm. I quietly asked him, “Do you like it when someone pulls your hair?” He answered, “No.” It was almost inaudible, actually, and as he said the word I noticed both hands released J’s hair like it had turned hot and was suddenly burning his hands. I dropped my voice even further and said, “All right, then.” And then he just skedaddled, y’all. I was shocked, actually, and almost felt sorry for him — almost but not quite. I definitely scared the bejabbers out of the kid.
I make this illustration just to say that I don’t know why it happened because usually I don’t get this kind of reaction from kids. Usually, they sort of regard me for a moment, trying to figure out if I mean what I say.
Maybe it is from being around my quirky boys.
Maybe the kid realized how badly he had acted and was feeling remorseful.
Maybe he saw the shadow of Mama Bear waking up and decided to vamoose before she came roaring on the scene. (Smart. Kid, you have no idea how hard it is to shove Mama Bear back in her cave. Dude, it ain’t pretty.)
I don’t know. But, I have to tell you, I sort of liked it.
Which definitely proves how un-sweet I am.
Just trying to banish myths, y’all.
Happy Tuesday!
