AsiaLIFE

Taking your tiny tot out on a playdate is not all play and no work as Zoe Daniel discovers.

Make no mistake – playdates with toddlers can be seriously fraught events. There was a time when I wondered whether I could be bothered with them at all. In fact early in my first child’s toddlerhood I recall them being overwhelmingly stressful, so much so that on many occasions I elected to wrangle him at home alone rather than facing the sandpit police.

My son was a demanding but affectionate baby. When he first started walking he was physically adventurous but emotionally clingy and spent more time climbing on me than on the play gyms when we went out. Much to my annoyance as a first time mum, when he did venture forth he seemed to get belted, pushed, tripped and pinched by every little “bully” in the park.

I would cart him home bruised (him) and dejected (both of us) from every playdate, wondering what on earth had happened to these little monsters to make them so violent towards others, and of course my angelic little boy was bearing the brunt. Then overnight, he became a monster himself. Pinching, pushing, punching, hitting, kicking, biting – we’ve been through all the phases, and we’re still grappling with some of them.

In our first week in Phnom Penh, relaxing at a café, I was feeding my younger baby when a screaming match broke out in the sandpit. A particularly well-built expat mother was bearing down on me. “Your son bit my little girl,” she yelled red faced with rage. “Right,” I mumbled, also red but with embarrassment and guilt. “Sorry.”

“No biting. Biting is very naughty. It hurts. Time out,” I lectured to the criminal two-year-old. Off he toddled tearfully for his two minutes in the corner, and then promptly re-entered the sandpit and repeat offended.

That night I recall my own tears as I related the day’s disasters to my husband. “How on earth will I make friends if I can’t go out?” I cried. That was almost a year ago. The offender is now almost three. He’s still a handful, but the anti-social behaviour has gradually declined as his level of verbal communication has improved.

There’s still a bit of violence in the sandpit – mostly pushing and hitting related to the sharing of toys – but I no longer dread playdates. Mostly now, they’re fun. At fifteen months my baby girl is the one who is now more than willing to smack her brother over the head. As number two she’s a fast learner and for me, there’s a degree of “here we go again”.

But the thing that has changed is my attitude as a parent. I still won’t put up with any form of violent anti-social behaviour, but I’m a lot more aware that it’s part of the process of development for most children. I recognise it when they test boundaries and while I do worry when someone gets hurt, I don’t worry so much about how other parents will respond.

I see other first time mums feeling the same way I did – first, angry when their baby gets whacked, and later, mortified when the same child starts doing the same thing again. I try not to judge other kids who hit mine. As long as there’s no blood, it’s a case of up you get – and “play nicely.” I try not to criminalise the hitter with a “what happened?” and “who did what?” investigation. I think that, to a degree, they need to work it out themselves. And my soon-to-be three-year-old has new weapons in his armoury now – words.

Over and over I’ve told him to say, “Stop it please, I don’t like it,” when he gets pushed around. I’m quite proud when he uses his words instead of his fists but he uses them against me too. Late in the day when my temper is short, he asks, “Why are you cranky Mummy? Chill out, ok?” I have no better response than to do as he asks.