I had started writing a blog post about a recent experience at a play centre where a very physical child caught my attention. It was difficult not to notice the maybe-two-year-old because his method of play involved physically hustling any child under-5 with his overzealous hugs, ramming of large toys, pulling of hair and poking out of eyes. The toddler left a wake of mothers comforting their unsuspecting children before releasing them back into the jungle/play centre. I haven’t seen a child like it for quite some time.

I wanted to write about how difficult it is to navigate the weird space when a child is repeatedly doing the wrong thing but their parent is no where to be found, or perhaps doesn’t see the behaviour as an issue. No one really wants to overstep the mark and discipline another person’s kid, it’s a hard enough gig disciplining our own.

I really felt for this kid, who at two-years-old had no more idea of the Big Bang theory than he did controlling his own impulses.

I wanted to write about the fact that it’s a toddler tunnel many of us have had to go through with our own rambunctious children. In fact, it’s very normal, he just needed a little guidance and support from his caring big person.

But every way I tried to write about it, it came out as a judgement of his mother – something I’m not really comfortable with doing. After all, my own children are as far from perfect as everybody else’s. They are so loud (so. loud.), they’re rough, and their manners often leave more than a little to be desired. There was a time when our oldest was about three, that I would need to shadow him like Heidi Klum’s bodyguard if ever he were around other kids, such was his presence as a human bowling ball (with smaller children being the pins). He would hurtle into them with such little regard for their feelings that I would despair at my own parenting. What am I doing wrong? Thankfully it was a phase that he seems to have mostly outgrown, though it took some time.

And during that time I will never forget the grace that was afforded to me by other parents. Never once did they have a go at me, or him, they accepted my apologies with an acknowledgment that I was trying my best. Perhaps they could see the tears that threatened to break the banks, I’m not sure, but I’m so thankful for that grace.

I like to think I would’ve afforded the same grace to this parent, if she was anywhere to be found.

But I think that is the difference, with my own bruiser boy, I was there. I knew my child’s temperament, I knew the toddler tunnel of turmoil he was in, and so I was there – trying to protect him from his own inability to play safely. Trying to teach him the gentler way. Trying to stop him before anyone was hurt. Trying to apologise if his bowling ball body actually struck a child. Removing him when he couldn’t play safely. It was exasperating and I probably didn’t do a great job, but I was there. I think other parents showed so much kindness to me because they could see I was trying (even if they perhaps wouldn’t nominate me for Mother of the Year).

When it comes down to it, it is our role as parents to be the teachers and supporters of our children – whatever their needs may be. I can step back as Bodyguard Against Human Bowling Balls now, and move on to supporting our boys’ next need, however haphazardly and unsuccessfully I might go about it. While they are little and learning, I will be there (or in the background nearby).

So I suppose I am judging the parent of that child in the play centre, even though I know judgement is such an ugly pastime. And maybe she was just having a bad day, maybe she just really needed some time to sit down with a coffee and take some deep breaths. Parenting is so bloody hard.

So I nearly didn’t write about it all. Judging isn’t helpful.

But if I don’t stand for kids, I stand for nothing. And this kid needed her. Because it is my belief that no little kid is bad. No little kid wants to be without friends. No little kid wants to be without the hidden rules that society expects. And gees it’s hard trying to be the one that teaches them but we try anyway because we love them so much. We fail a million times. We repeat the same lesson over and over. Always questioning ourselves. Always wondering what we could do better.

But I have found other parents to be the most wonderful supporters, as long as you are there, showing up just like them – without a clue but trying anyway.

Sometimes, we really just need to be there.

Eliza xx