Mean Cowboy

cartoon-cowboy-johnny_automatic via OpenClipArt

Today, for the first time since I’ve been a mom, my inner mama bear emerged. I took Charlie to play group (what we call going to an Ontario Early Years Center during drop-in hours.)  As I’ve mentioned before, we are working on sharing and taking turns, but Charlie is still uneasy when kids appear interested in ‘Tah-yee’s toys’ (anything he is playing with at a given time).  However, the same does not apply if Charlie wants to play with something that another child is using or enjoying.  Hypocrisy reigns.  Charlie will take the item away from them with no awareness of the hurt feelings that may occur until you point it out after the fact (which I always try to do).  

Lately, Charlie has been into cowboys.  This fact will be relevant in a few sentences.  Today is Halloween and most of the moms who brought their kids to playgroup had their acts together enough to a) remember and b) dress up not only their child, but also themselves.  I forgot all of these things.  In fact, I think I forgot it was even October.  Anyway, a cowboy about aged 3 showed up at playgroup today.  Charlie was entranced.  He started following the boy around and wanted to play with him, and with anything the boy was playing with.  I coasted nearby as I sensed that John Wayne was not that impressed with his new stalker.  “Charlie, give him some space.” and “No, I don’t think he’s quite finished with that ________ (fill in the blank)” were phrases often used.  At one point, Charlie was standing within breath-smelling distance from the boy's face and the boy flat out shoved Charlie to the ground and yelled “Go away!”  Well Charlie immediately got up and ran to me bawling hysterically.  The boy’s mother was equally mortified and apologized making cowboy hug Charlie and say he was sorry.  Not 3 minutes after reluctantly accepting a hug from the assailant, Charlie was attempting to play with cowboy again. (He's either got short-term memory problems or he's got the forgiveness of a saint I figured)  “Let’s go play with somebody else” I said loudly for the mother to hear (an attempt to not-so-subtly let her know that her bully kid should not be allowed in public among innocent, angelic children.)  After all, that IS why there is heaven and hell, right? To keep good people safe from bad people?  All right.  I may be going slightly overboard and in a few years, nay months, Charlie might be going through the same phase.  Even though Charlie accepted cowboy's apology licktey-split, I had a harder time doing so.

Anyway, about 30 minutes later, Charlie was attempting to be the other half of the see-saw that cowboy was rocking.  I could see trouble brewing so I hovered closer.  I guess he was galloping off onto the sunset on old trusty and Charlie hadn’t realized because when Charlie had one leg lifted in the air to straddle the see saw, cowboy got off and ran toward Charlie (I swear he was foaming at the mouth).  He shoved Charlie (half the boy’s size) down again (right in front of me) and cowboy’s mom (let’s call her cow-woman) did NOTHING! I was appalled. I scooped up Charlie and kissed him. Loudly I said.  “Oh dear! That’s not nice! I don’t think so buckshot!  Charlie - Don’t play with that boy.  That cowboy is a mean cowboy and he is in a bad mood today.  He isn’t nice.  Its not nice to shove people.  Tell him No! Please don’t shove me!”  

For the rest of the time we were there Charlie approached the cowboy and repeated my sage advice right to the boy’s face: “No! Peese do not shove me peese.” and he pointed at him with a sneer.  I think the boy and his mom got the message after the 16th time hearing it.