While on the playground before school began this morning, my son punched a classmate in the face and got in huge trouble. No detention or suspension. However, he is now a marked child. The playground aides are going to think he's a troublemaker. His teacher sent home a note I had to sign. The principal was notified.
While my son was taking his bath, I asked him what happened. "I don't know," he said. "I just got mad." I tried to get him to tell me more about it. He couldn't. As he was getting out of the bathtub, he looked up at me and said, "Is something wrong with me, daddy?"
It broke my heart. He looked worried and sad. I gave him a hug, told him that everybody gets angry. That he just needed to learn how to control himself more. "I just don't know," he said, "why I do it."
He's a conflicted little boy, and, of course, I worry about him, for him. I worry that he really has some kind of problem. Mental illness. Impulse control. Whatever. I just want him to be happy. Have friends. Follow the rules a little.
My question this Web dip Monday is:
Will my son have a good year in school?
And the answer is:
"Oh, it's coming all right," [Charlotte] said, lightly. "The plan is still in its early stages and hasn't completely shaped up yet, but I'm working on it."
You know, that's a really good answer. It reminds me how young my son really is. He's in his early stages. He's testing the waters, so to speak. Navigating the social landmines of school. He isn't completely shaped yet. That's coming.
What I do know about my son: he loves to play. Has a great imagination. Cares about people. Cries when he sees somebody else crying. Will share his chocolate bar. Gives the best hugs. Loves unselfishly.
Saint Marty knows his son is a good person.
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| My son--the future saint--and his sister |
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