I take Pea to The Little Gym on Tuesdays. We go year-round, but I think it’s particularly important for her to go during the summer, because often it is just too unbearably hot to play outside, and she needs somewhere to go to get out all of her energy. This kid has boundless energy. If we don’t do something really physical every day, she will sit for hours and bounce balls off of my head. It starts to hurt after a while.

Today was the last session for the summer. And I was wearing Coco in her sling, since my husband is away for the day and I hadn’t made plans for anyone else to watch her. Not a big deal, I think she likes watching the older kids play, and I know that Pea loves to show off her little sister.

And today, well today, there was an abnormally large group of moms visiting the class with their kids for those free “come-and-see-what-we’re-all-about-before-you-commit” sessions. We never took one of these, because really, it’s a giant padded playroom with cool things for the kids to climb on and qualified teachers. What’s not to like about it? But today, as I was watching all of these new moms chase after their kids, I realized how different parents are.

Pea is in her “mine” phase. If it’s something that she is interested in, something pretty, noisy, new or just within a 10-foot radius of her, it’s hers. Even if it’s yours. It’s still hers. And I understand this, it’s typical of a 2-year old. But nonetheless, she’s great at sharing and will, after she takes something from you, turn around and ask you if you’d like it. So, we’re not really there yet, but we are getting close. But watching these other 2-year olds, I was struck by how amusing it is to be in a large group of kids yelling “mine!” What’s even more amusing is being in a large group of their parents.

Pea is into order these days. So when the balls came out, she gathered up about 10 of the little ones and was lining them up neatly on a mat. She was grouping the colors together and it was all very organized and unified. And then a little boy came over with a couple more balls – small ones – and Pea wanted them to add to her grouping. When he dropped them on the floor, she went in. And you could feel the tension arising from his little body. And right before he struck, his mother told Pea “I wouldn’t touch those balls if I were you, he’s going to hurt you.” And then, he hurt her. My little girl. And I am not talking a push or a shove. He was like a little maniacal battering ram with his feet – kicking her over and over. And as I pulled her away to await her reaction to see how to proceed (because honestly, she’s so tough and often can’t be bothered with another kid’s histrionics), the little boy’s mother was telling him “we have to share.” She never said anything to him about not using brute physical force to get his way. Never directed him to apologize. In fact, it seemed that she had pre-excused his behavior by warning Pea that her son was about to strike. Ugh. Puts me in the always-awkward position of explaining to my daughter that hitting is never the answer, that we use our words not our fists, and of course this mother is two feet away and I’m wondering if she’s going to think I’m backhandedly insulting her parenting skills. I’m not. But I kind of am. Don’t mess with my kid. Ever.

And then there was the mother who’s daughter was a full-on bully. But the mother was engrossed in conversation in the corner with another mother and never saw her child’s behavior. She was obviously oblivious to the pushing and hitting that was being doled out by her kid. What do you say then? When your child is violently pushed aside mid-walk on the balance beam because this kid wants her turn and can’t wait? How do you gracefully let this unchaperoned child know that it’s not OK to knock your kid off a 3-foot high beam? Is that again crossing the line in regards to parenting styles? Will I offend? Seem like a control freak? Do I even care? The whole thing is just so complicated and I get so tired of having to walk on egg shells because one mother does it differently than I might. Do I have to keep my mouth shut so as not to offend you? Where – oh where – is the manual for how to deal this stuff?