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Our house has a nifty feature that wasn’t advertised by any real estate listing. Twice a summer, there are fireworks we can see from the street right outside our house. In July, we made our 5-year-old daughter, Julia, take a nap so she could stay up to watch the display.
The neighborhood kids are a nice bunch. There are four other little girls under age 12 that play with my girl regularly. They understand about her hearing aids and though they’re not perfect at compensating for her communication needs, they get along really well. There is one boy, age 6, in the neighborhood.
This boy never comes out to play. He doesn’t care for the girl dominated street or whatever. He made a rare appearance on this evening of the fireworks.
He wasn’t really paying attention to the show, so someone drew his attention to the fact that there was music being played. It was far distant music that I could hardly hear myself.
This boy walks up to my daughter, my sweet angel with her hot pink, purple, and white ear molds. He gets right up to her and asks, “can you HEAR that music? Can you? Can you hear it? It’s like doo, doo do do.”
The whole interaction took just a couple of seconds. Julia said that she could hear it, which may well have been a lie. The boy lost interest and went away from her.
I was left with tightness in my chest for the rest of the evening. I had a whole fantasy sequence where I held that little boy by the shirt and told him that he will never be permitted to speak to my child again. My palms felt sweaty and my heart was beating too fast. Where did he get off talking to her like that?
When we were inside and Julia was in bed for the night, my husband and I talked about the incident. We agreed that he was not being a nice kid. He probably isn’t a nice boy.
There are a lot of boys and girls in the world that aren’t nice. Julia will be meeting all sorts of kids this year in kindergarten. I will be not be there to assess their intentions. She will be alone.
Though I’m frightened for her, I’m glad too. I can’t take it. Julia clearly can. And really, it’s hers to handle. So until she comes to me with one of these stories, I really should stop worrying.
The neighborhood kids are a nice bunch. There are four other little girls under age 12 that play with my girl regularly. They understand about her hearing aids and though they’re not perfect at compensating for her communication needs, they get along really well. There is one boy, age 6, in the neighborhood.
This boy never comes out to play. He doesn’t care for the girl dominated street or whatever. He made a rare appearance on this evening of the fireworks.
He wasn’t really paying attention to the show, so someone drew his attention to the fact that there was music being played. It was far distant music that I could hardly hear myself.
This boy walks up to my daughter, my sweet angel with her hot pink, purple, and white ear molds. He gets right up to her and asks, “can you HEAR that music? Can you? Can you hear it? It’s like doo, doo do do.”
The whole interaction took just a couple of seconds. Julia said that she could hear it, which may well have been a lie. The boy lost interest and went away from her.
I was left with tightness in my chest for the rest of the evening. I had a whole fantasy sequence where I held that little boy by the shirt and told him that he will never be permitted to speak to my child again. My palms felt sweaty and my heart was beating too fast. Where did he get off talking to her like that?
When we were inside and Julia was in bed for the night, my husband and I talked about the incident. We agreed that he was not being a nice kid. He probably isn’t a nice boy.
There are a lot of boys and girls in the world that aren’t nice. Julia will be meeting all sorts of kids this year in kindergarten. I will be not be there to assess their intentions. She will be alone.
Though I’m frightened for her, I’m glad too. I can’t take it. Julia clearly can. And really, it’s hers to handle. So until she comes to me with one of these stories, I really should stop worrying.
If only that were my nature.
7 word(s) of wisdom:
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