Inadvertent lessons

I was lying in bed with my son last night. Just he and I while I tried to get him to sleep. We were following the rituals of going to bed, when he perhaps grew tired of the book I held in my hands or maybe of my voice droning on. That quick, he changed gears. He became playful again in the span of an eye blink (this happens sometimes) a second wind will blow in and he's good to go for another hour of what should be normal sleeping time, re-energized as anything, while my own body slows itself to a sure halt. I was so tired that I let him jump around the bed and roll up and down in a manic fit of face-flushed frenzy. He was smiling and laughing and bouncing on the mattress and it was just too much effort to open my mouth and say, no, settle down, let's try and go to sleep again shall we? I just let him be for the next five minutes and towards the end of that, he took the thin book we had been reading and inadvertently smashed the edge point of it into my left eye, into the soft fleshy part underneath the lower lashes. It. hurt. like. the. dickens. With my hands I covered my face and I cried out softly.

As aware as I was of the pain, I still felt when he burrowed under the sheets and started mumbling muffled sounding oh no's. It was obvious he knew he'd hurt me but I wanted to make sure he understood with what. So I called him out and I pointed to the edge of the book and showed him what had caused my pain. This edge, I said, this corner is what caused mami her ouch. Be careful jan (a pet name)! You have to be careful with things like this! He looked at the book and his little fingers slid slowly over the contours of the hard corner and before I knew what he was about, he had smashed his little hand onto his own eye.

I was so stunned by his action that I failed to stop him that first time but I grabbed him when he went for a second try, and in the moment it took for me to mentally try to sort out the why of his action he broke free from me again, pointed the offending book edge and brought it to his own eye to self-inflict the pain he had caused me.

I grabbed the book and I threw it away. I hugged him tightly to me and rocked him while I kept up a litany of no no jan, no no, don't do that, don't do that to yourself, mami is okay, I promise, I promise. I pulled him back to see if he had done himself any harm and when I discovered he hadn't, I tried to show him my own eye so that he could see for himself what I was trying to say but he was having none of it and though he bent in again to kiss my eye, that action must not have felt like enough of an amends to him because, he left the room to get his father and when he came back with my husband in tow, he pointed at my eye while he told his father what he had done. A confused explanation of mami and her ojo (eye), of my ouch and more oh no's, burst forth from him. More kisses came my way and in the midst of such contrition, I told M what had occurred. Like me, he too, tried to calm our son down. It's okay jan, it's okay, see? maman's alright. To bring the point home, my husband also kissed my eye. Look jan see? mami's ouch is gone, babi kissed it too, see? When all was said and done, I was swimming in kisses like my eyes were swimming in tears. It had hurt me more than I could have imagined to witness what he'd tried to do to himself rather than what he did to me.

Later I recounted once more for my husband what our son's actions had made me feel. Why? I asked him, why would he try to hurt himself? He loves you M replied. He loves his mami and he couldn't stand having hurt you so he hurt himself in punishment. But we don't punish this way I said, and when we discipline we don't do it like this, never like this. Where would he learn such a thing? I felt disturbed by the whole episode. It's okay jan, my husband said. I don't know where he got the idea either. But nothing bad came of it. Just forget it.

Later yet that night, I looked upon my sleeping boy and placed a small kiss on his soft cheek, then a smaller one upon a velvety eyelid. I kissed him like I was giving him absolution for something he did not do. I wonder, in the future, what my son might feel compelled to castigate himself for and I pray that nothing I ever say again or do could cause him a desire to hurt himself because of me. Sometimes, it is so very hard to be a parent. Some days, certain things, are so incomprehensibly unclear. I am still digesting what his empathy last night taught me. When I sort this out, I will tell you what I have learned.