I got really mad at a little girl this weekend. As I write that sentence I realize that you will probably think I’m crazy. And I even made fun of myself after. But, it is what it is.
Cooper and I spent the weekend at the lake. (I have more to write about that later.) It was a great weekend. Lots of sun and beach time. My favorite.
As we arrived at the beach on Friday afternoon, Cooper let me know that he wanted to swing. There were two bigger kid swings and a baby swing. Cooper loves the baby swing. He’s afraid of the bigger swings and I’ve never cared. So what. He can sit in the baby one if he wants.
Sitting in one of the bigger swings was a litter angelic looking girl. I bet she was 5 or 6. She immediately started talking to me. “He’s too big for the baby swing. Why does he want to sit in there? What’s wrong with him?”
I sighed. And chatted away with her and told her that he likes the baby swing. And on she goes. “Why doesn’t he talk? What’s wrong with him? Why does he yell so much?”
I told her that he has a hard time talking and communicates in other ways. She told me he was weird.
I couldn’t take it. I grabbed Cooper and walked to the waterfront. And she follows us.
Cooper throws rocks and sand. He loves it. And it downright makes him giddy. If there aren’t people around I let him throw.
And my little shadow continues. “Why does he throw? Is he a bad kid? Why is he weird? Why doesn’t he understand us?”
I was fuming. And sad. And hurt. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Cooper is Cooper. He likes to throw. And flap. And screech as he throws.
I contemplated telling her to leave us alone. I looked around hoping to catch her parents eyes. No go. I was stuck there. Cooper had no desire to go and he shouldn’t have to go. He was happy.
For the next 15 minutes or so she hovered like a mom and told me all the things he was doing wrong. Ugh. It was too much.
I sorta chuckled when she finally left us. And thanked God. She was pretty tough on Cooper. Tougher than I have ever been.