The GOOD, The BAD & The MISCHIEF.

My adventures & misadventures in parenting & life.

Friday, 30 November 2007

The Untouchable Love Object.

I'm full of rage, anger, dislike and disappointment.

All this emotion is because of a 4 year old.

I feel like shaking some common sense into a 4 year old.

(for those worried about child abuse, I will never do this, I just feel like it.)

The reason for these feelings is:

There is a little girl in my sons preschool class that my son is madly and hopelessly in love with.
Yes, he's four years old but it doesn't make the feelings any less real to my son, it doesn't make the hurt of being rejected hurt any less.
This girl, I'll call her "C" as her name starts with a "C" is a lovely looking little girl with long, flowing blonde hair. I can understand why my son is infatuated with her and my son obviously has good taste because he has chosen the best looking girl in the class.

However,

My sons love is unrequited, she does not want to know in any way, shape or form. Her interest is in playing with the other girls, she has no interest in the boys not even my son who is not only the best looking (I've been told) but also one of the most popular (the teachers have told me).

So every night for the past week my son has had a nightmare involving Claudia and various other things from monsters to falling off a line trying to get to her.
He's woken up screaming and crying but not for mum or dad, he cries for Claudia the four year old blonde temptress who has no interest in my son or his love.

It's only an infatuation, I know but God, it hurts me deep down in my heart.
My son, my baby is growing up and away from me.
This is one more step in his independence, in his growing up, in his learning about the world and how it relates to him.
BUT
He's too young yet, he's still my baby, my little man.

Damn those unravelling apron strings, I need to tighten them immediately before he grows any more away from me.

1 people have experienced mischief:

Skittles said...

Oh I know this pain. My oldest son had the same thing happen to him. Her name was Rose, but after that I called her the tramp. (This was in 6th grade.) When the child's heart is breaking, so is the mom's.

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