I wish I’d have said something

If you’ve read The Story section of this site, you know that I’ve given up on SoccerTots for the time being.  Plus, Tucker’s in school now and the Saturday classes have an entirely different dynamic to them than the weekday ones do.  And frankly, I’d rather find our own fun on the weekends.  Anyway, for the past three years, in addition to soccer, Tucker and I have enjoyed a lot of rec center classes together.  We loved Abrakadoodles, an interactive art class with the sweetest teacher ever.  We found fun in Mommy and Me swim lessons, despite Tucker not yet passing.  And we enjoyed Wiggles and Giggles, with its slides, jumping, and basketballs.  Except for the mom that I wish I’d have said something to.

There was a day when the kids were taking turns going down a little slide.  The people two spots in front of us were there with two brothers.  The mom instructed one brother to push the other.  You know, in a good push-down-the-slide kind of way.  Tucker watched this.  He learned.  So when the boy in front of him was sitting on top of the slide for way too long (really, he was, and not just in toddlertime), Tucker very gently pushed him.  I thought it was adorable.  And encouraging that Tucker just watched the same thing happen and was now doing it, too.  Expecting a shared eye contact smiley-moment with the other mom, I looked up to get instead a hateful, condemning glare.  She was most definitely not pleased.  I was surprised.  And embarrassed.  Was it really that bad that Tucker had pushed her kid down the slide?

This mom always brought her baby to class and left her in a car seat on the floor (seems stupid to me to leave her on the floor as there were nine toddler boys allowed to shoot baskets with real basketballs, but whatever).  Each class, Tucker walked over to the baby, said “baby!” and put his fingers to his lips and said “shhhh.”  He never touched the baby.  He never coughed on her.  He was just excited to see a baby.  And to demonstrate that he understood we’re quiet when babies are sleeping.  It was totally sweet.

The day that Tucker helped that mom’s kid get down the slide, she refused to ride the elevator with us.  All of this happened last spring.  Months ago.  And here I am still thinking about it.  It really hurt my feelings.  I wish I’d have said something to her.  If only to understand what she was thinking.  Had Tucker done other quirky things in class that freaked her out?  Maybe, but I don’t feel like he did.  He was a pretty active participant.  He waited his turn.  He high-fived his teacher.  To this day, I so very much wish that I’d have asked her why she refused to ride the elevator with us.  I’m not sure what words would have come from my mouth, had I acted.  Maybe something about the possibility that Tucker is somewhere on the autism spectrum.  That he has a speech and language delay. That he’s the gentlest, kindest boy in the world.  I wish that I’d have talked to her and found out what it was that she was worried about and then helped.  Educated her. Something.

I wish I’d have said something.

Tucker having fun under the parachute at Wiggles & Giggles