What To Do When The Girl Your Daughter Plays With Makes You Uncomfortable: Real Parenting Tips
I was leaning against the elementary school picket fence last October, holding a lukewarm oat milk latte I’d grabbed on the way, when Lila jogged over to me first. She’s the girl my daughter Mia has played with every recess since the first week of second grade. That day she had a half-sticky lollipop stick tucked behind her ear, neon purple hair streaks she’d dyed herself with a dollar store kit, and she grabbed my coffee cup out of my hand before I could react, sank a one-handed throw into the public trash can ten feet away, and yelled “NOTHIN’ BUT NET!” The other parents along the fence glanced over, and I laughed awkwardly, already mentally filing that away as exactly the kind of thing people mean when they say she’s a bad influence.
I’d heard the whispers before that first meeting. The PTA mom who runs the class snack sign up mentioned she’s on free and reduced lunch, lives with her grandma, got sent to the principal’s office twice in the first month for talking back to the teacher. My next door neighbor, whose daughter is in the same class, pulled me aside after back-to-school night and said “you might want to keep Mia away from her, she’s rough.” I nodded along, already planning how I’d gently encourage Mia to play with the girls from soccer practice instead.
Then Mia came running over, holding a chipped rock painted pale pink with a glitter unicorn horn stuck on with hot glue. “Lila gave this to me for my rock collection,” she said, tucking it into my bag like it was a diamond. I couldn’t say anything then.
A few weeks later, Lila came over for our first playdate. We were making sugar cookies for the class fall party, and Mia got too excited chasing the dog, tripped over his paw, and dropped the entire two-pound jar of rainbow sprinkles all over the kitchen floor. I was already running late to walk the dog later, had the paper towel roll in my hand, and Mia burst into tears immediately—she knows I hate big messes. Before I could say it was okay, Lila dropped to her knees, grabbed a huge handful of sprinkles, and sprinkled them all down the front of her shirt. “We’re sprinkles mermaids now,” she said. “Floor sprinkles aren’t a mistake, they’re a bonus. Crying is for people who don’t want mermaid powers.” Mia stopped crying right away, grabbed her own handful, and they were throwing sprinkles at each other, the dog was licking crumbs off the floor, and I just stood there holding the paper towel, realizing I’d never seen any of Mia’s other friends do that. All the other kids would have frozen, or blamed Mia, or waited for me to fix it. Lila turned a mess into a game before anyone even had time to be upset.
When Lila’s grandma came to pick her up, we stood on the porch and talked for ten minutes. She told me Lila’s mom has been in and out of rehab for three years, her dad left when Lila was four, they moved here last year to get away from all the chaos back home. “She acts out because she figures if people don’t like her anyway, she might as well give ‘em a reason,” grandma said, twisting her worn wedding ring. “I’m glad someone’s letting her play. Most kids’ parents won’t.”
I went inside that night and thought about all the things I’d judged Lila for. The ripped jeans, the occasional bad word, the way she runs too fast and pushes other kids off the slide. None of that was being a bad kid. That was being a kid who’s had a lot of bad stuff happen to her, and hasn’t learned how to be soft yet. I realized I’d fallen into that trap most of us do: I categorized every kid my daughter plays with as good influence or bad influence, based on how well they follow the unspoken rules we made for polite, comfortable middle-class kid life.
I didn’t end up banning the friendship, obviously, but I also didn’t just ignore the things that worried me. I came up with small, concrete things that work for us, that other parents can try too if they’re in the same spot.
First, instead of asking your kid vague questions like “is she nice to you?” ask specific, curious questions that get you the real story. I started asking Mia every night “what’s the silliest thing Lila did today?” and “when did she make you mad?” That gives me way more information than a yes or no question. Last month, Mia told me Lila called her stupid when they couldn’t agree on a game, and we were able to talk about how that made her feel, instead of me jumping straight to “then don’t play with her.”
Second, if you’re worried, meet the kid one on one instead of just judging through other people’s stories. I took Lila and Mia for ice cream after school one Friday, and just talked to her. I found out she draws full dinosaurs on every page of her notebook, she wants to be a vet when she grows up, and she still calls her mom every Sunday when she can. Most of the things people whisper about just fall away when you talk to them for ten minutes.
Third, set the same clear, small boundaries you would with any other friend, no exceptions, no extra leeway. When Lila comes over, the rules are no bad words at the dinner table, no climbing on the kitchen counters, and we clean up any mess we make before we go watch TV. I don’t go easier on her because I feel bad for her, and I don’t come down harder because I think she needs to be taught a lesson. She’s just a kid, same as any other.
It’s not all perfect. Sometimes Lila still pushes other kids, sometimes she forgets to turn in her homework, sometimes she’s mean to Mia for no reason when she’s having a bad week thinking about her mom. I still have moments where I worry a little, I still catch myself listening when other parents talk about her. But what I’ve seen change is Mia. Last month, a new boy joined their class who sits alone at lunch, and Mia invited him to sit with her and Lila, just because Lila told her what it feels like to be the new kid no one wants to talk to. Last week, Mia painted her own rock for Lila, with a stegosaurus on it, to leave in Lila’s mailbox when Lila was sad. Things aren’t neat, and I don’t know how this friendship will look a year from now. But for right now, it’s teaching both of them things no playdate with the perfectly polite soccer girls ever could.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » What To Do When The Girl Your Daughter Plays With Makes You Uncomfortable: Real Parenting Tips