My son Jude has reached the stage where he desperately wants to play with the “grand garçons” (“older boys”) that live in the apartment building and a few days ago, they graciously allowed him to sit amongst them as they played with Pokemon cards.
Being only three, Jude still doesn’t understand the rules of the game itself but he has one lone Pokemon card (given to him by an older boy in the playground adjacent to the apartment) which he held aloft with pride throughout the game – and my heart fluttered ever-so-slightly as I watched my boy start to mount the first precarious steps on the social interaction ladder.
Last night, he made a B-line for the Duplo bricks (large Lego for kids) and built himself a homemade “Pokemon” character. Later, when taking his bath, he said to me “Papa, I made a Pokemon and tomorrow, I’m going to play with the grand garçons and I’m going to show them the Pokemon I made” – and again, my heart fluttered ever-so-slightly as I watched my boy’s face; smiling, happy and proud of his Pokemon master plan – but this time I also felt a little saddened as I imagined the older boys laughing at my son as he presents this blocky homemade Pokemon creation, and the hurt and bewilderment on my son’s face as he tries to understand exactly why the boys are laughing at him.
Perhaps I’m just being an over-protective father and perhaps the older boys won’t laugh at all but I’m in a pessimistic mood today and I also know how cruel children can be.
I just want my boy to be happy. # ~ (2) 01·10·08
