Tag: You're It

I found out the game of "Tell-Elias-to-Chase-Kids" happened again.

So I spoke to Elias about it while I gave him a bath:

"Hey Bud, did you play tag again at recess today?"

"Yeah." He looks at the water.

"Do you know that in tag one person is 'It' until they tag someone else in the game and then that person is It."

"But I was it the whole time!?" He puts his hands out by his side the way he does when situations and words don't match up.

"Well, thats not fair."

"I know." He looks beyond me, as if picturing the trees and the kids and running with his canes barely touching the snow and ice.

I mention a student's name and ask: "Was he telling you who to chase?"

"Yeah." Elias looks back down at his legs in the water.

"Well, Elias, in tag whoever's 'It' decides which player to chase.  No one can tell you what to do."

"Oh."

"And he was telling you to chase kids who weren't even playing." I put my hand on his chin and try to get my son to look at me. "Elias, If you come running after kids they may feel confused or upset, which could make you upset. It doesn't sound very fair. Or fun."

"No. Its not."

"Then you could tell them its not fair."

"I did. And they didn't listen." He says this in a tone that tells me he didn't actually say it.

"You can walk away. Stop playing."

"I did!" By his tone this is true. " But they followed after me."

At this point in our conversation, I want to sew a bubble around Elias and ban children from his sphere. I want those kids to know I see their shallow hearts, simmering reflections of a society that mocks our weakest ones. I want to cry. I want to run.

"Elias if they do that again you find me next time. And if I'm not out there, walk to the nearest adult."

"Ok." Elias says. Our eyes never see each other.

I wash my eleven-year-old son's hair, a task he still can't do alone.  When the water's almost drained, I hold out my hand to help him out of the tub. I dry off his curved back, broad shoulders, skinny legs, and for a second I see what the kids see.

"Mom, I'll go to a different school next year."

"You will. How do you feel about that?"

He holds onto the sink for balance and says, "I'll miss my friends."

"Yeah."

The thing he doesn't have: Friends. He tends to refer to all kids as his friends, even the ones who invited him to play "tag."

"But they're both 6th graders, too."

Both?

"Who are you thinking about?"

And right when I think he doesn't get it, that he's clueless about the social interactions of all the preteens around him, he names the two kids in his class who genuinely connect with him the most, kind quirky kids who appreciate Elias's humor and seem to accept his challenges. 

The closest he has to friends.

And I realize that underneath his short answers, brew layers upon layers of feelings and thoughts that may not appear in our conversation but stem from the content of our words. From his experiences. Theres a whole world there that I will never know.

Elias walks to his room, unsteady after a long day, but one foot in front of another, without the support of my hand or his canes. He gets into his pajamas, all on his own, and meets me at the purple couch for his two nightly chapters of Magic Tree House.

He sits beside me and wraps his right arm through mine, as he does every night, but I seek his touch more than normal this evening and rest my head against his.

"I love you Bud."

"I love you too, Mom," he says, softly, like a butterfly.

Comments

[Canadeanna]

I recall once upon a time in a medical research paper in my educational career, I questioned the viability of a micro-preemie who required life saving measures upon birth and repeatedly thereafter...Elias changed both my opinion and my paper. I will forever regret our missed chance to meet in Florida. You are an amazing Mom and he is a truly exceptional, amazing guy. Please forgive my once upon a time ignorance.

[Mom and Dad]

Oh, Christy! You are such a good Mom! Elias is so lucky to have you and of course to have Nick and Olive!! I love you!! Can't wait to see you next weekend!!

[Janie]

He's one awesome kid, Christy!

[Danielle]

You guys are growing together, toward the light. You ARE the light. Much love, and know that reading your blog has informed how I raise my children. I just had a super interesting/difficult opportunity to connect with my youngest around themes of difference, compassion, and how /whether to make amends for a thoughtlessness (not cruelty) that might have gone unnoticed or might not have. It was so important, so real, and I hope, hope, hope that all of our children can bring understanding and compassion to the world.

[Christy]

Deanna, of course you are forgiven my long distance friend. Who knows, maybe another opportunity will happen sometime. I remember when I worked as a NICU Parent Navigator the docs were discussing this same topic and I spoke up about how you cant measure quality of life by medical outcomes alone. Thank you for letting me know Elias influenced your paper:)

And Danielle your words brought a huge smile to me this morning I love the image of you talking to your son , inspired by Elias's story.

I did decide to speak to the main boy. At first I turned it over to our principal since we usually don't give victim's parents access to the bully but when I learned he denied it and said they were just playing I pulled him aside at the end of recess. At first he tried to deny to me and I just said calmly that I saw him do it multiple times and then he said, "Ok, since you are his Mom and you don't like it I'll stop." Here's to the power of Mom over principal and counselor.

[Louise]

Elias continues to teach us all, near and far, that he is so much more than we imagine. And your perception as a mom, and a counselor, give him fertile ground for his continued emotional development. Just in the few years I've been reading your blog he's grown so so much! I commend you on confronting the bully - such a challenging situation and so impressive you could keep your cool and get him to hear you. (My mama bear anger is the hardest thing to overcome rationally.)