Drawing Criticism

First grade is a tough year for kids and parents alike. You watch your child gain intelligence and poise, along with stress and defensiveness.

I was hanging out with my 6-year old son last night. I was thrilled that he didn't want to play video games. First we were having a great time reading. He read a couple pages, and then I would read a couple. It was a Lego Ninjago book, which didn't make much sense, but there were battles, so he liked it.

Then we moved on to drawing. He showed me how to draw a figure eight, the pointy kind that looked like two triangles. Then he showed me how he could draw a star. His friend McKenzie had taught him that move. Then I showed him how to draw a cartoon lion face. We laughed at the results. His didn't look that much like a lion, but it was a nice looking face nonetheless. We compared our drawings and shared one of those deep, hearty laughs, that just lift up the room.

Next I showed him how to draw Mario, from Super Mario Brothers. This was easy for me, since he was wearing Mario pajamas. We made it through the Mario face, and again, began laughing. And again, I felt great, one of those laughs that really means something. But then I realized his laughter was fake. The boy was mocking my laugh. Instantly I felt a wave of depression, like a slap in the face.
I'm not sure why I was so affected. He shattered what I thought, in that moment, was a personal connection.

Joey went back to drawing stars as I watched in silence. I was stuck in my head still, reeling for some reason.

Joey didn't notice his teasing had hurt me. I concealed my feelings. Maybe some kid at school had mocked Joey's laughter, and now Joey was trying the move on me. Or maybe I had gotten carried away, and deserved to be ridiculed. I'm not sure why I felt so down, but the kid really shook me.

He is getting older now. He tries to make jokes. He can be quick with a critique. He can join a conversation, adding vital details. This won't be the last time he shakes my nerves, but it was the first.

For the rest of the night, I wondered if there was any malice in his teasing. Was he mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Then when I tucked him in that night, he gave me a big old kiss, right on the lips. I smiled. He is still my sweet little boy. For now.