Columnist ELIZABETH REILLY

“And when she wraps her hand around my finger, how it puts a smile in my heart. Everything becomes a little clearer, I realize what life is all about. It’s hanging on when your heart has enough. It’s giving more when you feel like giving up. I’ve seen the light in my daughter’s eyes. In my daughter’s eyes I can see the future. A reflection of who I am and what will be. And though she’ll grow and someday leave, maybe raise a family. When I’m gone I hope you see how happy she made me. For I’ll be there in my daughter’s eyes.”

”“ Martina McBride

By Elizabeth Reilly Hussey

Special to the Journal Tribune

For the past few years I’ve been methodically teaching my little girl the ins and outs of learning how to read. I’ve spent countless hours since she was a baby reading books like “Good Night, Moon,” teaching her the sounds letters make, reading out loud everything we come across and teaching her to sound out words.

In all the little exercises we’ve done, I never once thought I would find myself writing something I hope she doesn’t read. However, if she does read this week’s column, I truly hope it’s years down the road from now, when she has a family of her own and knows what parenting is all about.

I guess I’ve known all along that Kaya has a whole different set of rules in the places she goes from what we have here at home. What she may never dream to do here, for instance, may not necessarily be enforced elsewhere.

Until now I’ve carried a blind faith that the basics will be carried over from one place to the next. Things that a non-negotiable like keeping her safe from harm I still believe are being taken care of. But an event that occurred recently has raised some giant red flags that make it plain there’s entirely too much gray area when she’s out of earshot.

A few mornings ago I was walking with her to school. As we passed by the playground, we noticed a group of her classmates gathered off to the side playing and she starting giving me a run-down of the rules of the game. Watching the group and listening to her, I realized the little clique were acting more like they were physically fighting rather than playing a game. As I watched, I saw one little boy grab another by the collar and throw him to the ground.

“Did you see that?” I asked, mortified.

“Yeah, it looks like (so-and-so) won that round,” chirped my 7-year-old, fascinated.

Yup, ok, now that certainly caught my attention.

“Wait a second, that’s part of the game they’re playing? What kind of game is that?!” (Me, more than miffed at this point)

“Oh, that’s just fight club, we play it all the time on the playground.”

Now this is a group of 7- and 8-year-old kids. They are the oldest of grades in their school so it’s not as though the game was learned by older ones they’re being exposed to. This so-called game is apparently part of “play” at my daughter’s elementary school.

One big, cleansing breath later I told my typically amazingly obedient child in no uncertain terms that I do not want her playing that game any longer. I gave her the list of obvious reasons why, such as someone could get hurt. She readily agreed, I dropped her off at the school door and we said our farewell for the morning.

Here comes the real whammy.

In the amount of time it took me to walk back around the school toward the path that takes me home, my daughter ran to her classroom, dropped off her backpack and, when I caught sight of her, was running full-sprint toward the kids we just saw play/fighting. Enjoying a rare glimpse at how she acts when she doesn’t know I’m watching, I stood there waiting to see what propelled her to the throng.

What I saw made my heart jump just about out of my chest. I watched as my little girl directly disobeyed what I had told her less than a minute before and joined right in with the fighting. Even more shocking was how well it seemed she was faring in the game. She actually looked like she dominated.

(Insert my deflated self here)

I guess I assumed when she wasn’t around, my voice would somehow find a way into her head and direct her from doing wrong. To have that belief taken away from me is equally terrifying and humbling.

Needless to say, the little hellion is all sorts of grounded for so immediately and blatantly disobeying me. But now I’m presented with a seemingly insurmountable challenge: how do I become the voice of reason that lives in the back of her mind before she’s exposed to so much more than playground games? I’m logical enough to know I just can’t shelter her from the world, but how do I protect her from herself? I’m terrified because right now I just don’t have the answer.

I also know that, being my daughter, she will test every boundary that’s set in her way and find out the consequences the hard way. Her personality so masks my own there’s no way around it. I guess all I can do is pray I can stay one step ahead of her and keep her from going too far from the guidelines I’m trying so hard to teach her.

And I’ll definitely stock my medicine cabinet with lots of bottles of Tums.

”“ Elizabeth Reilly can be reached at elizabethreilly1@yahoo.com.