I Spoke Too Soon...

Maybe it's a good thing that little Ryan only has one more soccer game.  Tonight, only four of their six players showed up, so all four had to play the whole game.  Ryan did well, athletically...but there were a couple of incidents where things didn't go his way, so he got angry with the coach's kid (Andrew) toward the end of the game and had a bit of a meltdown.  When the kids were coming off the field at the end, I was cheering, "Yay, yellow team!"  And here came Ryan, charging me in pure rage.  Had I been in a chair with a higher center of gravity, he could have knocked me over.  I was wondering what kind of logic was going on in his toady little brain.  Later, in the car, Meg tried to evoke an apology from him.  He said he was mad at Andrew.  I said that I wasn't Andrew and that all I was doing was cheering for him and his team.  His response?  "I didn't hear you.  Next time, yell louder!"  So it was my fault...as usual.  I took it personally.  (Never mind that he's four.)  My feelings are still a bit dented...

Okay.  I'll admit that I never raised a boy, and I flat-out don't understand them.  I remember my own brother at four.  He drove me nuts.  When I picked the children up from Grandma Judy's today, I took them to McD's for supper.  (McDonald's has a Play Place.)  Before I was even away from the counter with the food, Robin had come to me twice--the second time in tears--that Ryan had hit her.  I warned him.  We ate.  In short order, he found a boy to play with.  I watched while Ryan pretended to be Darth Vader and was hitting the boy like Kung Fu Panda.  The boy said, "I'm not playing with you anymore.  You play too hard."  (Ryan claims to have no memory of hitting him.)  Okay...so we continued with our meal, with intermittent playing.  I gave the kids a 10-minute warning.  With three minutes left, one of the children in the Play Place started crying...and suddenly Ryan appeared to me for protection.  I asked what he had done.  He said he didn't want to tell me.  One of the other children blabbed that Ry had hit a kid on the chin.  The little boy appeared in tears.  I made Ryan apologize to him, just as his grandmother showed up and asked what was wrong.  I told her that MY grandson had hit HER grandson...that he had apologized...and that we were leaving due to bad behavior.  (It was time to go, anyway.)  She was very understanding, mumbling something like, "The shoe was on the other foot, this time."

As we were leaving, I told Ryan that his behavior was embarrassing...that he didn't even know the little boy was that he hit.  Robin commented to him:  "You did a lot more to me than you did to that little boy, and you KNOW who I am!"  Good point!  Did it get through?  Doubt it.  I am praying that the Angel of Little Boys visits me to give me insight.  I keep trying to get it.  So far, I don't!