The Tiny Toes Trifecta

How do you handle sharing with strangers?  By strangers, I mean children that you have never met before. Children who run up to you and say, “I want to play with that (fill in the blank).”

My policy is simple:  Could the parent of said child harm me physically?

For example, last week the girls and I went to a local playground.  We took their buckets and shovels to the “sandbox” (otherwise known as the volleyball court). The girls removed their shoes and spread their toes in the sand.  We filled the buckets.  We patted the sand down into the buckets and practiced turning them over to make castles.

“I WANT THAT BUCKET AND SHOVEL!” a tiny fairy of a girl shouted at my daughters.  Hendley’s eyes were as big as saucers.  I scoped the area.  The fairy’s mother stood 5 feet 2 inches.  She weighed approximately 80 pounds.  Unless she was hiding a shiv in her pocket, I would survive a physical altercation.

“Sweet heart,” I cooed, “My girls are playing with the buckets and shovels at this time.  You cannot take them right now.  When we are finished, we will be happy to share with you.”  The fairy ran to the other side of the “sandbox” and Hendley spent the next 20 minutes hoarding the buckets and shovels and watching the fairy like a hawk.   

How does one develop such an intelligent philosophy when it comes to child rearing?  My Dad, the most precious and adorable man on the face of the planet, taught me to constantly ask myself, “What could go wrong in this situation?” 

Last year we went “camping” at Amicalola Falls State Park.  The drive out of park consists of a long, winding, somewhat steep road.  “QUICK!” he shouted, “THE BREAKS IN YOUR CAR HAVE JUST FAILED!  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?” I started to sweat, “Is this pretend?” I questioned.  “You have to anticipate,” he answered, “You have to ask yourself, ‘What could go wrong with this situation.’  What would you do if your breaks stopped working right now?” I panicked, “I don’t know!” Daddy was calm and patient.  “First, you pull up your park break to slow down your vehicle.  Then, once you have reached a safe speed and find a safe landscape, you pull off the road so that you may come to a safe stop.”

Therefore, my sharing philosophy is based on the assumption that the worst thing that could go wrong when a child is refused a material object is some kind of physical confrontation.

We went to the Discovery Center today.  The lovely and talented Mrs. Joy taught a fabulous lesson on exercise.  She had various hula hoops, jump ropes, and balls out for the children to enjoy.  Mary Ellis had just ripped the jump rope from Hendley’s hands when a little girl ran up to her and stated, “I think you should share that jump rope with me.”  Mary Ellis’ expression said it all, “Absolutely not.” I looked at the little girls’ mother.  She was an estimated 10 feet tall and her physique suggested that she had recently competed in an Olympic level body building competition. “Let’s share with her, Mimi,” I said meekly.  
The little girl took the jump rope.  Mary Ellis’ face turned ten shades of crimson and her red hair actually looked redder. “That was not really nice,” she said, “She was not making really good choices.”  

I felt AWFUL.

Mary Ellis spent the rest of the day recounting the episode.  It was the first thing she told Grandfather when we met him for lunch. 

Grandfather, who knows best, taught Mary Ellis a new technique. “Make your meanest face,” he coached, “Then, use your meanest voice to say, ‘NO!’”  They had several practice together before Mary Ellis perfected her technique.

Perhaps my philosophy is in need of revision. 

Watch the video below for Mimi's perspective.