Dear Luciana,

We were at the indoor playground. You were playing with another kid, maybe five years old. I wanted you to have space to play without me hovering. Five minutes in, the kid hit you across the face. On purpose.

The kid said it was an accident. It wasn’t. I was watching. She lied. I got gaslit by a five year old.

You screamed. Not the whiny cry. The real one. I looked for the parents. Nobody. The place was packed and I couldn’t find them. I wanted to yell at that kid. I wanted to find her parents and tell them what I thought of them. I’ve never been that angry. Even in those first weeks after Mommy died when everything was rage and nothing and rage again.

I picked you up. You were still crying. Her parents never showed up. What am I supposed to do in that situation? Yell at some kid that should know better? I made her apologize. Mommy would have gone ballistic until she found the parents. Mommy probably wouldn’t have let you play that far away in the first place. I still haven’t figured out the balance between giving you independence and making sure you don’t get beat up by a bigger kid.

Besitos,

Daddy