WATCHING my son Felix disappear into his classroom wearing a freshly washed uniform, new shiny shoes and not a hair out of place, I’m one proud mum.
I do not doubt that he’ll be on his best behaviour, but I prickle as the other kids flood into the playground because there’s a deep-seated worry I simply can’t shake off.
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Some of the children he’ll inevitably rub shoulders with as the new school year gets underway are not exactly angels, and that’s why I’m hellbent on choosing who Felix is allowed to mix with. I’m not proud to admit it, but I’ve even gone as far as trying to sabotage any relationships he has, which I don’t approve of.
As well as choosing my son’s friends – not unusual when your child is of primary age – I eliminate any unsavoury ones. I can’t be bothered to navigate negative behaviour or attitudes, so I don’t tolerate it.
And with good reason.
Last year we had a ‘charming’ boy join (his mum’s words) who within a week had thrown a fork at a girl’s head and a plate at the wall.
Then there was the child who had a penchant for drawing on walls, and word got around that he did it at another parent’s house.
With my acute friend filing, Felix knows now not to push back.
‘It’s all just a phase,’ those annoying nonchalant parents say when they try to defend their child’s behaviour, followed up with the classic ‘let children be children’ remark. But some youngsters take great pleasure in being rude and savage, and I know exactly the reason why.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yet if you try to bring up any issue with either parent, more often than not they point-blank refuse to address or accept it.
‘My child would never hit yours,’ they say, wriggling around for flimsy excuses. Then as soon as their backs are turned, little Billy is indeed off again, whacking every child in sight.
Of course, all children have meltdowns and at times struggle to regulate their behaviour. But if they’re allowed to believe it’s never their fault, then they are never taught right from wrong; then they’ll get away with hurting others; that’s unacceptable and is bound to have a knock-on effect.
Evidence also strongly suggests that a child’s behaviour is impacted by what happens at home, and that includes inconsistent parenting. Research reveals that children exposed to chaotic home environments show significantly lower behavioural self-regulation.
When daily home life is unpredictable, it leads to a child’s inability to manage their emotions, leading to disruptive behaviours – 58 per cent of children swear because their parents do.
When it comes to Felix, the children who are boorish and obscene or don’t share the same values I do, can go. The same goes for the parents too.
When Felix first started school at age four, I was desperate for him to make friends, so I invited one of the mums to my house. She walked in and immediately drew breath. ‘Where’s the wide screen telly?’ she asked.
‘Oh, we don’t really watch much TV; we just view programmes on my laptop,’ I explained.
She looked shell-shocked, and then her son cried, ‘I don’t want these toys, I want Roblox.’
Felix, then four, had no clue what Roblox was. He wanted to draw, paint and play Lego, but the boy kept crying for Roblox. The playdate ended quickly when I asked Felix to help me tidy up. The other boy rolled his eyes, and the mum swiftly left after twenty minutes. But that was far from the end of it.
On a class trip to the cinema, shortly after the same boy cried for Roblox so much that his mum weakly handed over her phone to keep the peace. As Felix’s class avidly watched Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree, the gaming addict had no interest.
At his birthday party, held at his house – I innocently assumed it would be an afternoon of good old-fashioned fun with musical chairs and cake. But as we arrived, the gaming-obsessed child ignored everyone and played on his device the whole time.
He only wanted to talk about Roblox. I suddenly had visions of him at 40, stained coffee cups and dirty socks on his bedroom floor while gaming until 3am. Not the sort of man I’d ever want Felix to become.
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I made the decision that Felix’s relationship with him had to be shut down. So whenever the invites pinged through on WhatsApp, I feigned that I barely used the app, so I didn’t receive them.
Next, I had to navigate the ‘brute’ who arrived at the school gates a couple of years ago, thinking ripping branches off trees was a great recreational activity. His favourite pastime became hitting other children.
He was the sort who smiled sweetly when his mum was looking, then launched into full attack mode when her head was turned. Pulling girls’ hair and spitting followed.
I made it clear to Felix that while those may be his family values, they are most certainly not ours. And that acting vile gives Santa ammunition to firmly cross you off his list.
Felix mentioned a few months later that he probably didn’t get Christmas presents as he’s been naughty in school again, and I felt my mission was complete.
Earlier this year I got a call from the school at lunchtime. They explained that another classmate had asked my son to spell out the letters of a swear word and say it aloud.
The teacher heard it, reprimanding Felix, who immediately became upset, not knowing what the word meant. The little swearer laughed in delight.
Swearing is banned at home, so I asked the school to inform the boy’s parents to prevent it from happening again. ‘We’ve spoken to the whole class,’ the school’s health officer explained.
‘But don’t you think you’d better speak with the mum?’ I asked, vexed that Felix had to sit close to his spouting.
‘If it happens again, then perhaps…’ the officer said, but I knew the real reason.
Little swearer apparently regularly drops the F-bomb while in cooking class, or a stream of profanities in PE, so she knew it was a pointless mission, as nothing would be done.
Now we’ve exited that brief friendship using what I call ‘the ignore button’, and I sleep better at night.
Then there’s the son of ‘PJ mum’.
She’s the one who regularly comes to school in her Crocs and pyjamas. She never helps at the summer fair and lets everyone else volunteer to chaperone school trips. Everyone is ‘babe’ to her, including her little boy.
While I can sympathise with PJ Mum (doing the school run is no easy task), I also think that the boundaries at home are slightly on the loose side.
She was shocked when I said Felix goes to bed at 7.30 pm.
‘I’m lucky if any of us go to sleep before midnight!’ she laughed.
While she’s friendly enough, I think our early-to-bed, early-to-rise motto is important, and luckily, our sleep schedules don’t match in the slightest.
Then there’s the homework dodger.
‘Do we have a school project?’ they asked one morning as we rushed through the school gates with Felix’s impressive attempt at painting Sunflowers by Van Gogh.
‘Ah, don’t worry, easily done,’ I said, but I knew the truth. He never completes homework and secretly resents anyone else who does.
Recently, he started commenting that my son was boring, as we like to visit museums at the weekend. I suggested to Felix that he ask him who the current Prime Minister is. Unsurprisingly, the boy looked blank.
‘Next time we go to the museum, you’re welcome to join us,’ I smiled, knowing he never would and nor would I encourage Felix to invite him because while I support children’s passions, I believe kids shouldn’t undermine others’ interests.
Then we have the uniform shirker.
The policy at school is to wear leather shoes and smart trousers, but he doesn’t give a hoot and always wears branded trainers and trackie bottoms. This is worrying, as it sets the example that anyone can flout the rules, and I believe the idea of a uniform is to make everybody equal.
While some might argue that I should back off and let Felix navigate his own friendships, I have his best interests at heart. If I meet a child at school or in the park, I get a good idea if they are kind and polite by firstly, noting the parents.
If they appear welcoming and interested, I give them a pass. Secondly, if their child shares and is considerate of others.
I encourage more good friendships by asking Felix to be well-mannered and be courteous when asking them to join his games, so they don’t feel left out.
Now, as he settles into a new school term, it will remain my mission to ensure he has a group of friends who meet my seal of approval.
Then I’ll do it all again next year.