Type "my child won't share" into Google and it will return some 304 million results. Granted, it is kind-of embarassing (read: mortifying) when someone brings their kid into your home and suddenly yours is overcome with possessiveness and will not relinquish even one small plastic car to his bewildered guest. You consider child-play therapy and possible medication until you go to that kid's house and exactly the same happens in reverse.
I was told by our Top Tots instructor that kids don't 'get' the concept of sharing until they're at least 4 years old. Some people never learn this act of kindness and are horrible, selfish meanies all the way into adulthood. It's the prospect of this happening that drives our obsession to make our children play nice before they've even learnt to communicate properly.
Socialising children is only made excruciating because of the manner in which we are judged. Raising a child under the scrutiny of others is really where the horrors lie. Fear of embarassment or exposure in public is the very reason we type "my child won't share" into a Google search engine. Sometimes I want to say 'OK seriously, they don't want to share their freaking toys. They're 2 years old and have no idea why we're yelling at them to SHARE! SHARE!' but I am compelled to do the opposite, and so is every other exasperated parent and this is how it plays out: the moms plead with the kids to give each other a turn, the kids cry because they don't really understand what the fuck's going on, there is alot of noise & confusion until a mediocre compromise between the warring factions is reached. You realise this intervention method is a pile of crap and you sink into the couch ashamed at your inability to parent (no really, this is how we think).
Some experts suggest that we 'let the kids sort it out themselves' but there would be alot more noise involved, and possible violence.
Discplining in public is another thorny issue.
I'm so jealous of people who've got this down pat. The veteran disciplinarian! The parent who can pull their kids into line with one withering stare. I always want to sit them down and say 'OK how much for the secret formula. An arm? Here, have both'
People think the kid throwing a decent sized rock across a busy path of shoppers is a real brat and could use a good hiding; they look to the mother to see what will happen next and have framed & blamed her in 4 seconds flat. No-one realises that this mother is about to implode with embarassment, that this mother is aware of every single beady eye watching her, that this mother could happily exterminate the child on the spot for causing such a scene but loves the child too much to actually do so. That mother was me; today at Lifestyle Shopping Centre. Did I smack him in front of this audience? Of course I didn't. I knew he was melting down in the baking sun; hot, thirsty, hungry and frustrated. He threw the rock to get my attention, thanks mate, I got your message. A drink, some food and a swift exit home fixed the problem more promptly (and gently) than a 'klap' to the ear.
The pressure to smack your child, make them share, shut the hell up in quiet places, to be socially groomed and appropriate at all times; is immense. To the point where it's sometimes more hassle than it's worth taking your child out in public.
The only place you can truly relax is at home. With the blinds down.
And the doors locked.
Firmly.
