Sympathy

P, cackling at the height of the skyscraper he has built to collapse upon BB...


Sometimes, as I play BB with P, the ol' psychopath statistic (1 in 100) pops into my head. Now, I jest, of course I don't think my lovely child is a psychopath :) though the pleasure he derives from torturing a small pink monster often catches me off guard...

But I am amazed daily at his empathy and sympathy, BB aside :) Our dry cleaner burnt down a little over a week ago. Inside it lay our enormous (too big for our washing machine), favorite bed blanket that had been blessed by P's flu. As we stood outside the smoky remains the morning after the fire, P patted my leg, knowing I loved that blanket. We headed into the subway and I gawked at the Nicolas Cage set, lights and cords going everywhere. We settled onto the sub platform to watch the show and wait for our train, but P's mind returned to the fire rather than the movie set. He wanted me to remind him which blanket was there, was it my Very favorite? From Grams? The green or white one? Then he patted my cheek and said solemnly, "I'm sorry you lost your blanket, Mama. Maybe it didn't burn? Maybe it was somewhere else?" His sympathy was adorable, as I hadn't done much more than shrug my shoulders and say darn, I really liked that blanket. Then he paused for a minute, thinking, and then suddenly asked "Mama! Was anyone hurt? Was everyone ok?"

I had read about the fire on a neighborhood email and knew everyone was safe and sound. He was visibly relieved to hear it and I was a little surprised at the level of his sympathy.

But really, I shouldn't have been. Playing wildly in one room with Ethan he can hear a sharp intake of breath from me in the kitchen and yell in, "What, Mama? You ok?" If I bonk myself he always says "Sorry, Mama." and pats my ouch. When his buddy crashed his bike today, breaking the handlebar, P patted his buddy's back and solemnly told him, "My toys break all of the time. Don't they, Mama? Yah, they do. Toys' break. But sometimes you can fix them and sometimes you get new ones! I'm sorry your bike broke." Pat pat pat.

So while his concerns for his friends, parents and community is pretty obvious, its true, the pink monster seems to be the ideal outlet for all things un-sympathetic (As we rode an elevator in Florida, two biddies chided P for biting and chewing on the monster he had just introduced to them as his friend. He stopped mid chomp, obviously confused, and then bit Big, for good measure. Oh! They said. You don't bite your friends! To which I smiled sweetly and said that with the monster around he never needed to bite his friends....) But BB Does receive the benefits of P's thoughtfulness too. P constantly gives his monster gifts and shares all of his food with him.... until he feels ornery and won't let BB have a. single. bite :) He gently tattoos him, lovingly watercolors his belly, diligently brushes dirt from his fuzz and generally feels so strongly about him that a hug won't suffice, an enormous chomp is required. Watching his buddy this morning to help out his buddy's sick mama, I was more frazzled than usual (two kids have the ability to go two different directions!). After we all planted a felled tree that P found and BB climbed to the top, I ushered the two kids out of the park to meet our timeline. I ushered them out WithOut grabbing the tiny pink monster from the tree. We dropped off the friend, hurried home to drop off the bike and rushed out the door to meet our next playdate (an atypical day for us typical introverts) when I smacked my head and said "shit." P, ever attentive, wanted to know my predicament. 'You didn't happen to grab BB from that tree branch, did ya P?" Of course not. Its the mother's job to keep the children rounded up :) P instantly called out to BB, "BB! BB, where are you? Are you still in the tree? What does it look like where you are? Has another kid grabbed you???" We nixed our burrito/cracker run in favor of rescuing the lost monster, made some sandwiches for the playdate and sped out the door on my scooter. P, on my back in the mei tai, chattered away the whole ride, trying to get BB to spill the beans about his current location.

As we reached our transplant I could see the tiny pink outline dangling from a branch and heaved a huge sigh of relief. Those tiny ones are a Pain in the butt to sew. P also heaved a sigh and shouted "BB! You just had your eyes closed! You're still here! No one took you! You aren't in anyone's bag! Did anyone try to take you BB? Were you scared? I'm sorry we forgot you BB. I'll NEVER forget you again."

Now, if the empathy could just be extended to the cat.... do I sound greedy?