A lesson learned. Hopefully.

The last day of school before winter break. Snow still on the ground from the few inches of snowfall the day before. Two hour delay had carpool starting an hour later than normal and our day a little out of sorts. Luckily we got a phone call for a play date from Mason's best friend. After a quick lunch and a phone call to the doctors (who ironically is the father of our play date friend) we had Sophia dosed up with Benadryl for her stomach rash and headed out the door.

Met with uber excitement the kids threw off their winter gear and ran off to play. As usual they eventually wanted a snack so we made chocolate ice cream from a recipe in High Five magazine. With just some soy milk, ice, sugar, salt and 10 minutes of shaking we had our ice cream. I thought it was pretty cool, but like all new things we try there is a margin of error. And unfortunately the plastic bags broke and our ice cream ended up quite salty. Now we know for next time. Double bag.

A few hours later, kids still playing and Sophia asleep on my shoulder; it was after all about 4:30pm, the boys were upstairs playing and we sat on the couch for some girl talk and downtime. Then it happened.

My son started to scream. Blood curdling screams that let us know something was terribly wrong. He comes running down the stairs and very clearly upset and in pain. The reason? His best friend had bit him.

WHAT?!

Yeah, that was our reaction too. Totally in disbelief. But sure enough I lifted up Mason's shirt and there there perfectly aligned teeth marks on his upper back. Seriously, neither of us knew quite how to handle the situation. Mostly we were both stunned and in shock. Totally mortified, my friend went into action with discipline as any Mom would do. She called her husband, a.k.a. my son's doctor, and it was decided we would stick around till he got home to have him take a look. I swear Mason cried for like 45 minutes. My heart was breaking for my poor little boy and I kinda panicked inside, unsure of how to make it better. All I could do was hold him and assure him that his best friend still liked him and that Daddy would not be mad that he got bit. Though I have to say my heart broke the worst when Mason cried, "I don't want to come over here anymore." That's when his best friend erupted into tears and ran into the other room. My friend and I, the Mom's we are, just looked at each other with sad eyes. We knew better but still did not want to see this end their long time friendship of 3 years.

Honestly for me, I understand that these things happen. Boys will be boys. They play rough, they disagree. They are after all only four years old. The biggest issues at this age are sharing and learning to control their emotions. It probably didn't help that neither one had a nap and were clearly at that tired but totally wound up stage. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if our roles were reversed. I thank God that they weren't. I was still in shock. I had never seen my friend's son act out like that. Though inside I was saying to myself, "what a relief her son acts this way too." I know we always think our kids are the only ones that turn into terrors the moment they are alone with us in the house and no one believes they can act so different than the sweet, easy chid they see at school, or gym class. It was a bit of comfort to see evidence that my friends, who I feel are so perfect, go through the same thing. Maybe the one good thing that comes out of all of this will be my son never becoming a biter.

As I am writing this, I am still befuddled about how it all went down. I'm not sure we will ever know. I only know this; Mason calmed down, we had another snack, played a few games of sword fight on Wii. Smiles came back and by the time it was time to head home, we had a prescription of antibiotics, instructions on how to clean the wound, and as I suspected, my son declaring, "I want to come back tomorrow."