In the movie Forrest Gump, there is a scene where Jennie scrabbles in the dirt, picking up rocks to hurl blindly at the house where she was raised and abused. Suddenly she crumples into heart-wrenching sobs; the pain she is feeling is too heavy to bear. Forrest, who is narrating the story, sits beside her and observes “Sometimes there just ain’t enough rocks.”
We have all felt such pain, even if for different reasons, but often we forget that children are not immune to it.
Of the three, my oldest Rug Rat is the one who has the easiest character. Granted, he can bombard you with ‘Why?’ questions and he is what my grandmother would call a slowpoke, but disobedience is rare. When he does get a ‘fit’ on, one can see it coming by the set of his shoulders and the turn of his head; in self defense he becomes the epitome of arrogance. The tell-tale stance escaped my notice the other night until....
We had a disagreement, he and I. It started out innocently. He asked if he could do something, and I explained to him why I was saying no. He deliberately proceeded to do what he wanted, then poofed me away when I took him up on it. He already knew that there was no chance I would accept such rude behaviour, but extremely rude he was! Somewhat astonished, I interrupted the preparations for supper, and told him to go to his room to think things over. When he refused, I took his arm firmly and helped him along. The yelling he started once he was up there was NOT in sync with the episode; it was overboard. When he realized that no one was paying attention, that he was on his own, the sounds changed, and he was crying his little heart out.
He had run out of rocks.
I so wanted to go to him, to take him in my arms and tell him everything would be okay, but I knew it had to come out. He has been a real soldier since the separation of his parents, keeping all the hurt inside, making the best out of a traumatic situation. A good face was put on for the sake of his Mommy and Daddy, but the pain has been festering inside. Mémère was the only target he could allow himself to consider, and I could accept that. I’ve been there.
I waited until there was silence before I went up to see him. When he heard me arrive he pulled the blankets over his head. Keep it cool, Mémère, I thought to myself. If he wants to talk about it, he will.
“Supper is ready, and it’s your favorite,” I said aloud. I continued playing along. “But before you come down, I want you to know why I was so angry. It’s not so much what you did, but your being rude afterwards is unacceptable.” I grabbed his foot under the covering and shook it playfully. “I know you won’t do it again, now that I’ve told you.” I added. “So come down to eat.”
“No. I’m not hungry.” He mumbled, but offered nothing further.
“Suit yourself,” I answered. “It’s ready if you want it.” And I left him, praying that I was doing the right thing.
It took another 15 minutes before he made an appearance and sat down at the table. His brothers and I treated it casually, as if nothing had happened, and he did the same. Although his eyes were red from tears, I felt that he had let some poison out; his face was more relaxed than it has been for some time.
The next morning I phoned his mom. He has said more than once that he wants her to move in with us...with his little dog, Weegie. Mommy has been coming regularly to spend time here (reconciliation is looking good!), but his little dog has stayed behind.
“Bring him,” I told her. “Smooch and Grump will get along with him if I tell them to – and it’s not fair to keep a dog from his boy.” His mom agreed, telling me that she thinks the child misses his pet more than he does her. She also mentioned that my son said maybe she could stay over with us that night.
“No problem,” I told her....probably too enthusiastically, but my grandson’s happiness was at stake.
She was picking the boys up from school that afternoon. When they arrived at the house, Weegie in tow, it took only one look at my Rug Rat’s face to know how delighted he was. It didn’t take long for the worry about reactions from Smooch and Grump to dissipate; the dogs got along fine (I’ve always thought they were much smarter than most humans!). Knowing his mommy was also staying over was frosting on the cake.
Supper and homework was done, walks taken, baths over, and it was bedtime. Both of the younger Rug Rats have no problem doling out kisses and hugs when saying goodnight, but Nalou, already feeling his way into manhood, is more reserved. With him it’s usually just a “Goodnight” and off he goes. His Dad lifted an eyebrow when the boy walked over to me and presented his face for a kiss, then actually hugged me back before heading upstairs.
No-one had to say it aloud. We looked at each other, basking in the child’s joy, and we all SMILED.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
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