Firsts

I think that we can all agree that there are a lot of awesome firsts in our lives: first smile, first step, first kiss, first job. And there are a lot of crappy firsts: first sickness, the second step, when you fall on your face for the first time, first heartbreak. I remember how awesome/horrible many of these things were, but the memories of them when they happened to me are nothing compared to the joy/pride/anger/sadness I feel when they happen to my kid.

Last week when I picked The Babe up from school, his favorite teacher, Miss P., pulled me aside.

"I just wanted you to know that he had his first fight today, " she said. 

My heart was beating a little faster and there was a little lump in my throat as I scooped my smiling boy up into my arms to inspect the damage. There were two angry red welts very close to his eye, but the eye itself was fine. I tussled his hair and gave him a kiss. The Babe is such a friendly little guy. He has a "hej" and a "hej hej" (hello and goodbye in Danish) for everyone. He's cautious and considerate I couldn't imagine a scenerio where he was the aggressor. And he wasn't.

He was playing with a car, Miss P. explained, and another little boy tried to take it away from him. The Babe simply refused to give up his toy and he got clobbered with a car that the other little boy already had in his hand. This, apparently, was not the first time a kid had tried to take his toy. It was just the first time he said "uhhhmmm...no". Miss P. told me he didn't cry. He didn't hit back. But he didn't give up his car, either. He'd taken the path of passive resistance and he'd won. Sure, he'd gotten a black eye , but he was beaming even hours later and wearing his booboo proudly as a badge of honor. 

a first black eye deserves a cookie

the black eye already fading to yellow two days later

 I have to say that I was pretty proud of him, too.