Saturday, November 14, 2020

1:00 p.m. 

Once upon a time, I was a kid. It was a long time ago, but sometimes it seems like just yesterday. 

There are things that bring childhood days back to me with some force. 

For example, picture this:

I am nine or ten. There's a new girl in the neighborhood, about the same age. She's an only child, and seems lonely. 

I make friends with her. It seems like the right thing to do; no one else will play with her. 

She seems nice. We ride bikes. We have lunch. 

I notice she seems put out whenever my sisters and brother join in. It seems she wants me all to herself.

I am, for the most part, a loner, and as she gets increasingly clingier, I begin to feel smothered. 

If other friends come around, she pouts and goes home. My friends ask how I can stand her. I ask them to give her a break.

She doesn't know how to share. She doesn't listen. She's spoiled. 

"Well," I say, "she's an only child; she never had to learn. We can help her."

"You help her." The friends leave me to it, letting me know that they're free whenever I come around--without the new girl.

That makes me feel bad. I find myself making excuses for her. It gets tiresome. After a while, it gets downright uncomfortable. But I don't want anyone to be left out. 

Then, one day, the big explosion comes. I am trying to explain something to her--I don't remember what. Whatever it was, the reaction is not a good one. She slams her hands over her ears and starts chanting, "I'm not listening! I'm not listening!" Then she stomps her feet angrily and runs away.

I am stunned. I go to her house. She refuses to see me. Her mother makes excuses for her. I begin to see the problem. 

No boundaries. No rules. No consequences. 

Yes, indeed. Spoiled and pampered and excused. 

I may have continued to try with her--I did feel sorry for her. But the family moved soon afterward and we never made up. 

Or...maybe "made up" isn't properly what we never did. Maybe we just needed to transition from the discomfort of her outburst and go on as if things were better. 

I'm long past nine years old now, and I still wonder if that could have been possible. Even at that age, I understood that when you coddle and enable and excuse certain behaviors, things are going to go badly out of whack. 

My parents raised me right. 

Now--does any of this sound a little too familiar? 

If I recognized this behavior at the age of nine as something NOT COOL, how could I miss the same sort of thing in certain people now that I am a grownup person?

I call this the "It's my ball" syndrome. 

We all knew that kid, too, right? He was the one who owned the ball. Baseball, football, whichever. It didn't matter. "My ball, my rules!" 

Yeah. Meaning, he got six strikes, not three. He got to make the touchdown, even if that meant everyone else just got out of his way and let him run. He got to pitch, even if he couldn't throw the ball all the way to the base. He got to kick the goal. 

It didn't take the rest of us long to decide to pool our money and get our own ball. Who wants to play with a kid like that?

Well, the kid grew up and got old. He got a different ball (golf, anyone?) and he wants to change the rules, or he's not going to play with us.

Again, I say--who wants to play with a kid like that? 

We've come a long way toward pooling our change and getting our own ball. Now we just have to expel the spoiled kid from the playground. He doesn't get six strikes and he can't throw well enough to pitch. He can't kick, and he can't run a touchdown. He needs to get off the field. 

And when he slams his hands over his ears and chants, "I'm not listening! I'm not listening!" someone needs to shove a bar of soap in his mouth and put him in a corner for a time out. No more spoiling and pampering, and no more excuses. 

Time to grow up, pack up your toys and move on, so we can transition and things can have the chance to get better. 

There. I said it. Let the hate begin.