Since Dax barely spent time apart from me since the day he was born, the first couple weeks of K-4 was a nightmare! He would cry from the time he got up and didn't stop until... well ... really not sure when he would stop (maybe after I was out the door?).
It was tough as every mom knows but a bit tougher on me because of my paranoia. See, for a while, I was under the impression that Dax was/is a bit of
a weirdo different. His vast vocabulary at such a young age and his disregard for boundaries of strangers (i.e. any time he sees another kid he walks straight up to them and talks to them as if he's known them all his life. This includes going to sit at the table with them at Mickey D's as soon as we walk in the door. He just walked right up to a complete table full of young girls he'd never met and took a seat with them). It wasn't until I stayed in his Sunday School class one day that I realized that all 4 year olds are weirdos. Yet the worry was still there because he's so vocal right off the bat that some kids would look at him with this blank stare not understanding what he was saying. Like they were thinking "new word alert" who is this kid and what language is he speaking.
Though I still get the occasional "I want to stay with you" whine in the morning, things have settled into a good routine. All seemed well. That is until Dax's teacher walked him out to me when I picked him up and explained that he has been pushed down in the gym. So hard that it did this to his face:
My first instinct (if the occasion arose again) is to teach Dax how to defend first but also how to push the kid back hard enough so he'd get the idea to never mess with him again. Since Clint was sick when he got home from work he
went crawled straight to bed and never got a chance to address it. Trying hard to think what God would want me to tell him to do. I told him to keep an eye on him and if he saw him coming at him again, to plant his feet and when the guy goes to push him grab his arms and and push his arms down. I know, I know.
LAME!! but I'm a girl. Though I grew up the only girl in a neighborhood full of boys and held my own (please, like they were going to hurt me...) haha. I really don't know much about self defense. I just know how to retaliate. At the time I didn't want Dax doing that. Until the next day he came home and he'd been pushed again. That's it. Advice changed this time. I told him Dax, if he pushes you again, I want you to push back and Mama's gonna show you how. I was so proud of what he said next. "but that's wrong" (I know what you're thinking - such a little mama's boy)... But I told him, no Dax, it's not wrong because you are defending yourself. He needs to know that you will be ready and willing to protect yourself by any means necessary if he means to do you harm (like what he did to his face) again.
After talking to Dax for a little while longer, I found out that the Dax and the little boy are actually friends and that the other boy just gets too carried away. I later talked to his teacher and she verified this The boy and Dax like to play Power Rangers but the teacher said that person who shall remain nameless gets way too carried away - often.
And to end on a good story, Dax's teacher verified what I said too (that all 4 year olds are weirdos, not just my son) and that Dax gets along famously with the other kids. With the staff as well. During the first week somehow Dax got into the wrong room and three teachers and receptionists were trying to figure out who he was and where he was supposed to go.
Teacher: what's you name?
Dax: Superman.
Teacher: really, what's your name?
Dax: Superman.
Other Teacher: What's your real name?
Dax: Clark Kent! (they couldn't help but laugh at that) after this went on for a
while they finally asked him what his mama called him. That's when he finally answered
"My Name Is Dax"
For those of you wondering why I decided not to home school. Though it was a gut wrenching decision and I hated to not be able to do it (for K4 only). Our circumstances right now warranted him to be taught by others and the the fact that of all the interaction with children makes me feel very good about that decision. So we put him in private school.
