Oops

Last weekend I was one of those moms. You know the kind – the ones you look at and think, “Really? You’re going to let your kid do that?”

My mother-in-law was visiting so I thought it would be fun to take a day trip to Philadelphia (it’s only an hour and a half away from where I live in New Jersey). So, we piled in the car, stopped by Princeton University, had lunch and got back on our way. Our destination was the Please Touch Museum in Philly (if you have never gone but live nearby, you must, must visit). This place is awesome; it’s clean, extremely kid-friendly and great for young kids. They are allowed to touch and explore almost everything in the place, and kids were definitely kept in mind when designing the space. There is a small car parked at a fake gas station. Kids can crawl inside, pretend to pump gas and take a meter reading on the tires. There are buses and trains (they don’t move, but kids can go inside them), as well as all sorts of fun science objects and water boats. There was even a story time that my girls loved.

Downstairs was a complete Alice in Wonderland experience with a maze made out of astroturf. It was in the maze that I lost all sense of good mothering. The girls were having such a great time running around the maze that when Aimee decided to climb up on the ledges I didn’t think anything of it. (Mind you, this place is made for kids to feel and climb, so I thought they were allowed to do so.) At one point a mother who had only a toddler put her arms up so Aimee wouldn’t fall. She shot me a look that said, “Seriously? You’re going to let her do that?” (That should have been my first clue.)

“I just don’t want her to fall,” she said. I thanked her and smiled. I thought she was being a little too cautious (her son was less that 2 years old and when you only have a child that age you are a much more cautious mom). If you knew this museum you'd see it wasn’t strange for them to climb. There were other climbing parts attached to the wall so when they crawled along the sides it seemed natural. My husband, however, suggested they stop immediately but I stupidly shrugged and said, “They’re having fun.”

I have no idea why I was so lax. Normally I’m all about having kids respect the property and since no other children were climbing these walls, I should have agreed with him. Call it Mom Brain, call it whatever you like, but I learned my lesson the hard way.

I decided to steer the kids to a different part of the room where there was a large mound that kids could push a car on. Aimee got up and climbed on the table (other kids were doing that, too) and I said, “Hey, why don’t you come down here and play with the car?” The next thing I know, she jumped off the mound onto another child. She knocked this poor boy down and I immediately went over to him. She was the one in pain, but he was my concern because I was horrified she hurt another child. (Nice mom.) “Are you all right?” I asked. I scanned the room looking for his mother. He nodded and looked at me blankly. He was fine. Aimee, however, was howling. She hurt her foot. I saw the mom who had earlier held her arms up to protect Aimee. She glared at me. The boy’s mom came up and I apologized. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Is he all right?” I instructed Aimee to apologize as well, which she did in between sobs.

The boy’s mom was gracious and funny. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said. “He has an older brother. This is nothing!” She smiled and scooped the boy up. He just rubbed his head.

Aimee, meanwhile, felt terrible about what she had done. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, Mommy!” she wailed. "I'm sorry!"

“I know you didn’t, honey,” I said, stroking her head. But then she got louder and screamed more, saying her foot was hurt. I tried to examine her but she became surly and uncooperative and started to kick me. And because I was embarrassed (the number of parents staring at me doubled by now) and angry with myself for letting her go wild, I got mad. She kept screaming and I said, “Stop it! Stop it right now!” (By the way, those soothing, calming words work so well on young children.)

Finally, I cooled myself down and said, “Look, I want to help you. But I won’t unless you stop kicking and screaming. So I will wait here until you are ready to cooperate.” I put her in a corner and stood up, turning my back to her. I needed a few minutes to cool down and talk myself out of being embarrassed. I also felt bad about her and worried she was really hurt. After a few minutes she stopped screaming. I checked out her foot, asked her to walk and she did so, easily. Phew.

I think life is funny. Readers of this blog know I love to hop up on my soapbox and wag my finger all the moms who let their kids run amok in stores and museums. My guess is this incident was life’s way of saying, “Hey, how does it feel to not be perfect, Little Miss Judgy?”

Oops.

Photo by Deniz Ongar, courtesy of stock.xchng