Ever since arriving back into the arms of his Bah-Bâh, I can see a changed child: Kingsley no longer misbehaves outlandishly, nor ruins days out with unreasonable demands. He is calm, happy, content…and stuck to his Bah-Bâh’s side. The boys are reunited after three months apart, and the effect on Kingsley is immeasurable.
It was touch and go there for a while, in Greece. Some days I would simply avoid children’s playgrounds so bad was Kingsley’s behaviour the day before at that very playground: aggressive, pushy, wild. Often enough for me to panic did I spot him push another child over, or hit a baby, or yank hard on an infant’s body part. And it wasn’t just me alarmed: the other parents were often enough concerned and would steer their child away from our big boy. This of course made me so sad and upset, because I know King is just looking for companions and play mates. I found myself ‘explaining’ that he is still only two, but tall, like his dad who plays basketball.
After weeks of yelling and slapping Kingsley on his bum or wrist for bad behaviour, I was becoming distraught and guilt coloured darkly my days. After all, a Greek summer holiday was supposed to be carefree and jolly for Mummâ and son. So I wrote to a mummy friend based in Paris who, too, considers her toddler ‘difficult’ and she counseled that before I slap a label on my son (ADD, Personality disordered, delayed, problematic, whatever) I revise his behaviour once he is back in the routine of family life. In other words, back with his dad and me, all under the one roof, doing normal things.
Fast forward to now, and we have our darling sweet well behaved boy back. It seems as though Kingsley missed his Bah-Bâh all those months being cooped up with a wild Mummâ and a group of emotional, crazy Greeks- my extended family. The positive male role model that Erroll is cannot be replaced. Ever.