Over the weekend, we decided to check out the sale at Ikea. Jesse is all enthusiastic, cos it means he gets to visit Småland, Ikea's own kiddie playroom. We dropped him off and left Anie outside to keep an eye on him.
We had only just made it to the kitchen display when I get a call. "Your son is crying, sir," said the voice on the other end. I darted downstairs leaving Mae in a trail of dust. And there I found our boy in tears. In between sobs, Jesse poured out his grievances, but it was all disjointed gibberish. "Boy... took my ball... jump... I want to step on his head." We couldn't make head nor tail about anything, and so we asked Anie who had witnessed the whole thing from afar.
Apparently, Jesse was minding his own business playing with a ball when some ruffian kid decided to snatch it away. The little tyrant had also pushed my boy on the ground, which brought out the waterworks. Then our boy got up and punched his tormentor, which, of course ended with two boys crying.
"Punch?" I asked Anie, "bukan pukul?" I showed Anie an open palm. "No, tuan," she replied in English, "Jesse punched the boy!"
"Good boy," Mommy said as she stroked the boy on the head.
"Umm..." I interrupted, "I don't think we're supposed to encourage that."
At least not out loud anyway.
Don't get me wrong, we always teach Jesse never to raise his hands on anyone. And we don't want him to be a pushover either. So yeah, I have to admit I'm glad he taught that pushy little shit a lesson. Yet, I'm a little concerned with his, "I wanna step on his head" statement. It's got this whole 70s-kungfu-revenge-retribution-movie vibe to it.
We're not really sure how to deal with this.