Childish Behavior

Saturday I took Owen and Tess to Beeman Park in Studio City. I thought I had it all figured out, and we would have this grand day at the park. Owen was so excited that we were going. He kept saying “ark” to emphasize that he knew where we were going. Then he kept saying “daddy,” since his dad always takes him to the park. We packed up and got ready to go. When we got there, I was relieved to see there weren’t very many cars there, since that meant it wasn’t that crowded. I hate when it’s crowded, because inevitably some of the kids gang up on the slides and the younger ones can’t use them. I know it’s just kids being kids, but I still hate it. So we got there and walked to the big slide, since Erik told me that Owen had been going down the big slide by himself. I put Tess in the stroller and watched as Owen walked over to the slide. There were two boys at the top of the slide, about 5 or 6 years old, and they both looked at Owen, who was at the bottom of the slide trying to climb up it and one of them said, “You’re a freak. You’re freaky looking.” Then he looked at the other kid and said, “doesn’t he look funny? Doesn’t he look like a freak?” I felt like someone punched me in the gut. Owen just looked at them, not understanding what they were saying (thank God!), and I just looked at both of them in fear: fear because I know that this is just the first instance of someone calling my son names, the first in a long life of him looking ‘different,’ of kids pointing that out. I picked Owen up from the bottom of the slide, looked at both of them and said, “did anyone tell you that you are ugly?” A little less sure of themselves now, the one boy said, “but he looks different.” I said, “oh yea, and you don’t think you look different? Maybe I should call you a freak.” I know I was being childish, because I knew better, but I couldn't help myself. I really wish I had a better comeback, to be honest, but I guess "ugly" is just as good.

I was pissed, and I was so hoping that their parents were nearby so I could walk up to them and say, “how old are your boys? Five? So it starts that young? So they are already bullies this young?” but I couldn’t find their parents. My stomach was in knots at this point, and all I wanted to do was kick the kids, and tell them that they would amount to nothing, because who gives them the right to tell my child that he looks like a freak? But I took a deep breath, and brought Owen up to the slide, and slid down with him. Then, he seemed to get a little more confidence, because next thing I know, he was climbing the slide by himself! By this time, the two boys had run off somewhere else, and all I could do was forge ahead. I wiped aside any emotional thoughts about the whole thing, and just concentrated on making sure Owen could play. At different times, older kids would come by and just want to use the slide, and I was just so taken aback at how rude they were, saying “can you move that little kid, he doesn’t belong on the big slide,” and then barreling on through as I was still trying to get him out of the way.

When Tess started crying, I was relieved. At least I had an excuse to leave the park. I had given Owen an hour of playing and even though he didn’t know anything was wrong, I was heartbroken. But I didn’t cry. Not until I was miles away from the park did my eyes water with tears and my throat hurt from trying to hold them back. I called Erik as I was leaving the park and told him what happened. I told him how I feel as if that park is full of rich kids who don’t know anything better, or how to behave. They are given everything, and they think they have every right to do anything they want without concern for anyone else. I know they are just kids, but I can see it already. Nobody said “excuse me,” nobody was polite, it was as if everything was there for their use only and if you were in the way, well, get out of the way. I told Erik that maybe it’s better that we don’t move to Studio City, maybe we are better off being in Hollywood, integrated with a different kind of society, maybe one that has been raised on manners. Is it my imagination, or am I finding that kids with too much money have no manners, and the Latino kids that go to school with Owen, who probably don’t have much, at least have respect and decency and manners? Do I really want to move to that neighborhood? It makes me wonder if Owen will be shunned by people because he is different. Will people treat him badly and call him a ‘freak’ the rest of his life? I told Erik that I want to have more kids just so they can protect him, and beat the shit out of kids like these when they treat Owen badly. And right now, I know I sound like a bitch, but I really do mean it. These kids may be 5 years old, but they are learning this from somewhere, and they are making it part of their personality. They probably could use a good spanking, at the very least.

And for all of you who read my blog, and have typical kids, please, do your child a favor and teach them to respect other people no matter what they look like. I know what a wonderful child Owen is, but when typical kids are mean, they learn it from somewhere, meaning their parents. If you are going to respond to my post and say that they are just being kids, then I hope I never meet your 'typical' kids, because they will grow up to be people that nobody will like.

I’m tired. I just want to forget what happened today, and I don’t really want to call anyone and talk about it, because I just can’t quite get my head around it all yet.