Skip to main content

Perceived Slights

When we moved into this neighborhood, The Rabbit was already 2. Believe it or not friendships had already been forged. For the 2-year-old's.

So when she started pre-school, there were many birthday parties The Rabbit was not invited to. When her third birthday kicked in later that year -- I invited everyone in her class, and even the children she played with on the playground. It was a wonderful free-for-all - and she had a blast. It helped to meet parents too -- and start getting involved in the "groups."

Unfortunately, I still find this whole birthday party situation troubling. Especially when I know the Rabbit hasn't been invited -- and when I assume the other child is a supposed good friend.

Now, it's a given. We have playdates, dinners, our own events where we don't invite everyone. We just can't. But I still can't shake the feeling of anger when I perceive The Rabbit's been slighted. So what do I do? Nothing. I just consider it more excuses to drown myself in extra jam in the morning.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Oh, the pain of motherhood. Hurts, doesn't it, to see our baby slighted? But Rabbit has to forge her own way in this cruel world. Just be there for her to talk to whenever she wants to (or not). You are her constant best friend.
Mom/Mum said…
Oh yes, this makes my heart wrench. I am sure the rabbit is well loved and liked by all her friends, but it's hard to judge the popularity of your child at this age. I'm still trying to work out if my son has any friends at his new pre-school because all he says he plays with is the toy truck! Am not holding my breath for party invites....
Manhattan Mama said…
Thank you anonymous. And Mom/Mum I remember when The Rabbit told me she couldn't wait for recess to be over because she just played alone.....she has friends now. And the truth? I know I feel the slights more than her!

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

What Price Romance?

Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math. It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling. Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with h...