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Thursday, February 14, 2013

Play Therapy

D: "Will you play with me?"

N: "No, we don't like each other."

D: "Well, I like you."

N: "But I don't like you, so there."

D: "But why?"

N: "I don't like your hair."

D: "Why not?"

N: "It's not beautiful."

N: "Oh."

Dulce walks away. Natalina assume the role of the teacher.

N: "Dulce, what's wrong?"

D: "Nuffin."

N: "No, you're acting sad. What's wrong?"

D: "M and J don't like me."

N: "Oh, well, let me talk to them."

And on and on. And then over again. And again. Sometimes the "teacher" would get angry or sad. Other times, she would tell Dulce that it would be okay and go play with someone else.

It's cute right? It would be really cute if it were pretend. But it wasn't. The girls, with no prompting from me at all, and apparently no discussion ahead of time, they spontaneously broke out into this "game" recreating a very real event that had happened at preschool that morning.

M and J really did tell Dulce they didn't like her because her hair was dark and curly. And it messed her up a bit. My child is four. She doesn't need to hear about how her hair isn't beautiful.

Dulce told me and the teachers told me. I don't think they talked to the other parents, but that's okay. It's not a big deal, it's just kids being kids.

That didn't stop me from shooting a four-year-old child the adult death-stare of doom. Yeah, you heard me. Not above it.

Other than that, I just told Dulce that the girls were wrong about her hair, they probably just didn't know any better, and sometimes people just don't want to play with other people, and that's okay. I told her to seek out other friends who would be nicer to her when that happens. I didn't know what to do.

And my heart broke when this game started. This incident really resonated with the twins.

But as they went on, I became less sad and more fascinated. They were working through it. Over and over again, they worked through it until Dulce was satisfied with the solution.

And by the end, they were laughing and giggling away. Best of friends. Forever.

Perfection.

My kids.




 

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  1. Poor, sweet Dulce. My heart breaks for her (and for her mama).

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