To be clear on a few things, my son hit another boy. It broke my heart. He says he was playing, and I believe him. Eight year olds are still learning where play wrestling ends and violence begins. None of that really matters to the other little boy, he felt bullied.
As his mother I am crushed. I am weepy at the fact that my son hurt someone else’s son. Every part of it is upsetting. He didn’t mean to hurt someone else, but he did, and sometimes your intentions simply do not matter. Only your actions do. Some days are easy, some days are not. This week has not been easy on either of us, but it’s been important.
As for hitting girls. He is never allowed to. Ever. You can tell me how big some of the girls are, how bitchy… any of it. I fully expect that at some point in childhood my son will have a fistfight, little boys and young men experience that. We will cross that bridge when we get there.
I know you’ll find this upsetting, but were someone to raise their hand to my daughter, we would call the police. Jane is far from helpless. It is a double standard. Boys and girls are different.
That’s just my reality. That’s the way the world works, and I’m okay with it.