Sad Little Face

There was a sad little face looking up at me today, blotchy with tears and forlorn with disappointment.

But it wasn't one of my kids; it was the neighbor boy.

Sis and Bud had been playing with him when he decided, I'm told, to change games. When Bud didn't want to, Boy supposedly pushed him, causing Bud to fall back and hit his head on the bed frame. He came running home hurt and upset.

Of course, it didn't end there. Sis and the Boy came over about 15 minutes later to see if Nate was ready to play. I talked to them both, trying to ascertain what had happened.

"It was an accident," Boy said. "He didn't want to play so I pushed him."

"That's not an accident." And so we talked about how to be friends.

But Bud didn't want to play with him; neither did Sis, really. Later she said, "it's not that fun." Bud elaborated, "he always says, 'my house, my rules.' And we never get to pick the game."

And so Boy left because no one wanted to play his game (should I mention it was DS? Probably don't need to).

My kids and I had more conversation. Because the pushing wasn't the only incident--they had also watched some of a non-approved movie (thankfully, not Twilight). "But it was already on when we got there. Mom, why is Princess Leia in chains? And who is that dancing girl?" Sigh. And I wanted to encourage Sis to come home with Bud when something like that happened, and vice versa. And to encourage them to seek out the adults in the house if there was ever a real problem. As I've blogged, I recognize the value of their navigating their own friendship, even or especially with our neighbor, but this one has some obstacles that even I'm having issues with.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Can they play yet?"

"They're taking a break now. They can play tomorrow."

He came back again about 10 minutes later. Neither of my kids wanted to play with him, so I answered the door.

"I don't have anyone to play with!"

"Honey, where are your parents?"

"They aren't playing!" And I wasn't sure if he meant his parents or my kids.

He came back twice more, all by himself, crying and demanding and pleading. And, as far as I can tell, his parents knew nothing, never noticed that my kids had left the house and that their son had left the house and come over 5 different times. I walked him home once, getting Bud's lightsaber, but I never saw Boy's parents. I'm not sure I know what I would've said, but I thought it was important to try (I have some ideas for next time; sometimes, I'm slow with parenting ideas, especially with conflict).

After the last visit, I needed to leave. I wanted to stop Boy from hurting so much but wasn't going to make my kids play with him, especially all things considered. So, we piled into the car and went out for ice cream, as Bud kept talking about his head hurting from hitting the bed (he's fine). Mama, who had been at the hardware store, met us there. We talked options, ideas, and she agreed to take over answering the door for the evening.

But sad little Boy didn't come back.

I hope he does. I think.