The playground can be a scary, scary place.

Last week on our nightly playground stop Benjamin and I met a mom, her 6-year-old son and her 3-year-old daughter. She had a very thick Russian accent and I spent 15 minutes answering her hard to decipher questions about the area. I wrote down useful websites, drew maps and told her about all of the free music festivals. I was on my best “mommy at the playground” behavior and even thought I might make a new friend.

As we were chatting away the kids were playing happily and then the unthinkable happened. Benjamin walked up behind her daughter and shoved her. He didn’t just shove her into the ground, no, my adorable little 2.3-year-old had just pushed a little girl off of a three feet high landing.

She went crashing down onto the mulch and then complete mayhem broke loose.

Her mother bolted forward howling in terror. She scooped up her screaming daughter and ran off to check for broken bones. In the meantime, I’ve got Benjamin in a locked grip telling him that he can not push. My voice was quivering. He’s never pushed anyone before – not like that – not in the back. And then he flashes me a sly smile. A smile!

Before checking his hairline for a 666 mark, I ran up to the mom and started apologizing profusely. Then she scowled at me, marched off, plopped her daughter in the stroller and stormed away. Just like that. From friend to foe in a matter of minutes. I know she had every reason to be absolutely furious, I would have been too … but I still expected her to say something – anything.

The next day I told Benjamin’s day care about the incident. There I was describing him as if he were a dangerous object that could actually kill someone. “Just watch him on the landings, please, watch him closely.” They didn’t seem phased.

“Oh, he probably did it because there’s a new little guy here who’s been pushing everyone,” and then she added, “It’s (insert fake name), he’s Russian.”

A Russian is pushing my kid around at daycare so he pushes the first Russian he meets. It did make me feel a bit better about Benjamin (at least I know he’s not the Devil’s child) but now I’m wondering if there’s a mini Cold War going on at every playground in America. No seriously, the Russian thing aside…

Have you ever had any playground wars? What would you have done in that situation? I’m new to this mommy thing so playground etiquette is definitely not my forte. Did I screw something up?

Other posts you might like:

• O’ Daddy Where Art Thou?
• Daycare Ladies: A Tribute to My Better Half
• Can This City Girl Handle the Burbs?

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