My kid got baby-bullied at music class today!
There's another little boy, we'll call him K., and he's older than Zweeble--he might be two or just over two? But, anyway, after the other possibly-two-year-old boy left because he was coughing all over the toys, K. and Zweeb started noticing one another.
First there was a slight kerfuffle over toy cars--Zweeble is not at the stage where he really gets sharing as a concept, but he doesn't tend to just take things from other kids. If they put them down, though, the toys are fair game, and he snagged a couple of cars that K. wasn't done with. K.'s mom was explaining that he needed to share, so instead of totally undermining that, I just took one of the cars from the Zweeble and handed it to K. Sadly, it was not the one K. wanted. But the toys had to be put away, then, anyway, so it became a moot point.
Class goes on and Zweeble was ... okay. I dunno, I think he wanted a different song than we were singing, but he wasn't really thrilled at first. But eventually he got into class and we were having fun, and he peeled off from me to go gaze at himself in the mirror and dance off to the side.
K. heads over there and they both dance for a little while, then K. starts kind of herding Zweeble back to the circle. He puts his hand on Zweeb's shoulder, not pushing, just guiding, and the Zweeb's going along. I, however, don't really like this, so I snag my kid's hand and swing him over to me for a smooch and some clapping. The Zweeble is not a sitting guy, though, so he heads back to the middle of the circle, over by the teacher and K.
This is where it gets interesting. I don't know if Zweeble invaded K.'s personal space or what, but K. just leans over and pushes the Zweeble! Not hard, but enough so that the Zweeble takes two steps backwards. The teacher, with a smoothness you would not believe, sits up on her knees and insinuates herself between the boys, not dropping a note. K.'s mother does that whisper-yell thing at K., who heads over to her, where he is whisper-yelled at for pushing. The Zweeble looks around, seemingly confused as to what the fuss is about, and heads back to me, where he proceeds to jump and bounce.
From there, detente is reached. Until we get to the instrument jam, where all the kids get to grab instruments and make noise. Er, music. The Zweeble has been wanting to get his hands on these things all freaking class, so when we have to put them away, he doesn't want to. K. is forced to give his stuff up by his mom, but the teacher tells me Zweble can keep a maraca for a little bit if he wants. Of course, as soon as K. sees the Zweeb with a maraca ... he walks over and takes it from him, and gives it to the teacher. After a moment or two of disbelief, the Zweeb runs to me and starts crying. Not too much, just his usual 30-second didn't-get-my-way cry.
Overall, no idea what to do with any of that. There's no harm, really, and it's not like the Zweeble isn't going to have to deal with little snot-nosed punks throughout his life, but ... well, I am trying really hard not to project my feelings onto my kid. He doesn't seem like he has any trauma, so I really don't need to assume that this will stick with him like my Great Barbie Debacle of 1st Grade. I just don't want this to become a theme. And I'm not quite sure how to keep K. kind of away from Zweeble. Though I am going to see if we can cultivate the other 1-year-olds in the class--there are two, a little boy and a little girl.
Gads. You know, we have a friend whose daughter is about two months older than the Zweeble, and they had problems with her at daycare because she was just biting other kids. But it was all the new kids. She was, we think, showing them the pack order. :) The Zweeble ... well, he really seems (as much as you can tell when he's one) like he's one of those kids who does his thing and rarely notices the pack order.
Ah well. Anyway. Yay, motherhood.
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