A weapon called the word

There is a heat wave. England blazes temporarily, a shimmering heat-haze halo surrounds her crown;

The thermometer hits 30C (86F). The air is hot, thick and muggy. Sun kissed skin, shorts and flip flops abound.

We head out to our outdoor public swimming pool for some respite. We are joined by my daughter’s best friend and family.

The girls rip around the swimming pool together, laughing, splashing, exploring and making mischief. Other friends join us. It’s perfect. Just perfect.

It’s 5pm, the shadows lengthen, but the heat continues.

Thoughts turn to food. We decide to eke out the remnants of the glorious weekend in the sweltering courtyard of a nearby pizzeria. Six adults and six children under four. Magnificent chaos.

We are the only people here. The adults kick back and chance bottles of cold beer. The children pulse, faces red and glistening with sweat.

The sky turns a peachy hue. Honeysuckle and Jasmine curl around a trellis, radiating a heady and intoxicating scent. The courtyard bakes.

It is a perfect scene but fatigue sets in. Tempers start to fray. My daughters’ best friend is tired and becomes emotional. But my daughter wants to carry on playing.

After one rebuke, my daughter turns to her best friend and blurts out “Do you like me?”

I am surprised. I have never heard my daughter seek affirmation before. She may be 3 years old but I still have this mental image of her crawling around in nappies, squawking excitedly at house flies and chewing on our furniture.

And I can tell by the intonation in the question that she is feeling a little hurt. Something has happened between them.

If I’m shocked by the question, then the shot gun blast of a response knocks me off my feet.

“No. I DON’T like YOU

It is delivered with an indignant turn of the back, the emphasis firmly on “YOU”

This passage of conversation stops everyone in their tracks. Someone on the table gasps.


A fly buzzes past. A car horn sounds.

The perfect day begins to crumble.

I immediately feel a whole series of emotions; anger, heart-break, sadness, shock

My daughter starts weeping, hard.

Not only has she asked a question that has laid her emotions totally bare, but she has done it in such an open and public way.

And she has received the ultimate social put down in return. Worse still, it is delivered in front of all the people she cares about most in the world.

“I DON’T like YOU


Fucking OUCH.

My daughter sits on a step and sobs her eyes out, her back turned to the group. No parent likes to see their child cry, but I notice this is a different kind of crying.

My daughters face is contorting in ways I have never seen before; her face is the canvas for the expression of her soul – writhing, wounded, anguished and vulnerable.

Yes I expected this kind of thing during the teenage years, but not NOW at three years old. Surely not now? Not yet.

The parents of my daughter’s best friend, to their credit, try to reassure, try to get their daughter to apologise. They try to blame it on the heat, they try to resolve the situation.

It couldn’t have been easy for them to hear either, for our children are tiny little mirrors that reflect right back at us.

They try, but to no avail. The damage has been done.

I don’t know what to do or how to react.

Part of me wants to ignore it. It has happened, it’s going to happen again, and my daughter is going to need to learn to deal with it on her own.

And after all, maybe her best friend doesn’t like her and was just being honest.

It was brutal honesty, but at least it is honesty.

The other part of me wants to step up into man-mode and solve the problem; I want to give my daughter a big hug, carefully admonish her friend for saying something so cruel, gently but assertively elicit an apology and then, situation resolved, accompany everyone (smiling) back to the half eaten pizzas – the perfect day, still on the cards.

But while man-mode is ideal for fixing punctures or strimming hedges, it is not equipped for emotional trauma. The fragile gossamer threads of emotion cannot simply be fixed with some glue and a screwdriver.

This is going to happen again. She needs to work out how to deal with this herself. She needs to know that I am here for her, but that I can’t fix the way that her friends feel about her. And I certainly can’t fix the way that makes her feel.

But I can role model a reaction to social rejection. A reaction that will hopefully breed resilience. A reaction that will equip her for everything that is to come.

I went with what seemed instinctively right. A comforting arm. Whispered cajoling. A big hug. No judgments, no admonishment, just calm reassurance that I am there;

She did calm down. We eventually went back to our pizzas. The evening finished on a reasonable footing.

But I can’t shake this feeling that my daughter’s innocence has been dented by her best friend and I have done nothing to protect her.

And this little incident, played out very publicly in the theatre of the restaurant is both a window into the future and a comment on the present.

For the present it tells me my daughter is growing up, quicker than I realise.

For the present it has rammed home my limitations as a father.

For within my home I can protect and provide and nurture. And yet the moment I step out of the door, I am reminded of my parameters.

Society snarls and bares its teeth like a rabid wild animal and I have to turn away. I cannot protect my daughter, not even from tiny words that tumble from a tiny mouth.

And for the future it tells me there will be more of this to come. Social rejection, alienation, paranoia and shifting social bonds are unfortunately all pervasive features on the rich landscape of modern childhood.

And for the future it tells me that for every success and failure that my children endure, I will feel it as profoundly as they do.

And one thing is for sure.

My young daughter has probably been dealt the first of many, many blows to come, with that subtle, yet powerful, weapon;

A weapon called the word.


This post originally appeared on the Daddy Cool Project website. The Daddy Cool Project (DCP) is a London-based voluntary organisation which aims to help diminish negative stereotype of dads in the UK. It also highlights the importance and positive impact of fathers and male-role models living and working in today’s society. They do some really great work – go check them out at www.daddycoolproject.org.uk and follow on Twitter @daddycooluk


20 thoughts on “A weapon called the word

  1. Poor little mite. I have seen this happen so many times. The next time they see each other it will be as if it had never happened, I’m sure. Children are a cruel bunch at times and know no boundaries! I’d let it go, given they will be best buds again before you know it!!

  2. In my experience the only time these situations continue to fester is when parents get involved. I have had four children and experience has taught me to finish the day a bit earlier than the children would like in order to avoid situations like this. Your daughter will take her cue from you so if you are relaxed about the row so will she be. Good luck and I hope your heart heals quickly. I know your daughters will.

  3. I’d start by not letting the kids have beer, or maybe having a few more myself. My 3 year old lives so much in the moment – she may be feeling something just now and think it is the only way she has or will ever experience the world and then in ten minutes feel a different way entirely and again it is her ultimate reality – original idea forgotten. I am a smallish, fit man – the other day she dubbed me “The Hippo of Sadness” – she was “The Lion of God” – so who knows what kind of therapy we are all going to need when these weaponized words stop flying. Cheers!

    • No doubt she will forget all about it. Children fall in and out on a daily basis at that age. They speak without thinking. Wait ’til she turns five and things really get nasty. My daughter had to endure two months of her so-called best friend saying: I don’t want to come to your birthday party. In the end we didn’t invite her. Turns out she’s a bully in training. It’s always heartbreaking but best to teach your daughter how to deal with situations like this rather than actively intervene – unless the behaviour is persistent.

  4. It’s hard to watch isn’t it, and it doesn’t get any easier, my 5 year old girl has just been through a lot of change (moving to NZ) and has had to make new friends. Luckily it has gone quite well and she is part of a lovely bunch but I do worry when she becomes very close to anyone in particular as she can end up hurt. Though like one of the other commenters said it has usually blown over by the next day

  5. Children can be so cruel. I’ve had to deal with anything quite so harsh but I guess similar will happen one day. Sounds like you dealt with it well.

    • Thank you sir. It’s hard to know what the right response is. But judging by the great comments on here this kind of thing is going to be a frequent occurrence so it is probably in my daughters best interest to know how to deal with it herself. I can obviously be on hand to comfort her but I am going to have to try and avoid inserting myself into the situation.

  6. Children are incredibly honest at this age, so it is no surprise that both your daughter and her friend acted the way they did. My kids often tell each other ‘I don’t like you’ when they are upset with something the other did. I cuddle the offended one and tell them (in front of the other) that sometimes we don’t like each other and it’s normal. That way, they don’t feel they always have to like each other, especially when they are getting on each other’s nerves.
    They do bounce back later, and I often see them playing together again shortly after the outburst. Kids this age are experimenting with how to handle their feelings and emotions. We can’t protect them from what other kids say but we can teach them how to deal with it.

    • Great words thank you very much. And thanks for sharing your experience. I am beginning to learn that your approach is a good one. There are many things I can control as a father but other children’s emotions are not one of them!

  7. It’s surprising how much it hurts US when the comment is directed at our child. Definitely best to hide your own emotion in these situations because the kids do so often bounce back. It’s really no better being in the other, ‘offending’ parents shoes either. Sometimes these situations can be avoided by wrapping up the socialising earlier than any of the parents want to but as a necessity before the little people get all unravelled. Bet your friends felt miserable about their child’s comment.

    • Thanks for this insight. I agree, I think we let the day go on longer than it should. Tiredness was definitely a key factor. And the kids have bounced back, to an extent. We have noticed they haven’t played together as much at nursery this week. My daughters best friend has been playing a lot on her own whilst my daughter has been tearing the place up with other friends. It’s fascinating.

  8. Kids are so cruel.
    My little boy told me last night that people at school think he’s not very nice – the mother in me was heartbroken, the teacher knows in reality he’s probably just suffered the effects of being a bossy so & so that day.

    • Ah bless, poor little man. But good on you for remaining objective and balanced. Maybe my daughter said / did something to annoy her friend in the run up to this incident. It takes two to tango after all….

  9. Did your daughter get over it quickly and did they makes things up? My 4yo was forever falling out with her little friends, but they never held on to grudges… Really hope all turned out okay for your girl #ArchiveDay

    • It took longer than normal for my daughter to recover that day i.e. An hour compared to 5mins. It made quite an impact.

      And like yours they frequently fall out with each other but they are still best of buddies! Fascinating to watch.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s