One such occasion was unfortunately on the day of his sixth birthday. We had taken Harry, his brothers, cousins and several of his little school friends to a large indoor soft play area, where we had hired a section for his party. All in all, my wife, myself and two other parents we had roped into being party helpers were responsible for 18 young children, all of whom were hyper with sugar and excitement. Things were chaotic but manageable.
And then I heard it – the unmistakable sound of my son screaming and shouting. “Get out! It’s mine!” I heard him yell, face red and fists balled up in rage. I rushed over to see him angrily shouting at another pair of children who had evidently been attending the wider soft play area and had accidentally wandered into our private party section.
“For heaven’s sake, Harry!” I said crossly, feeling mortified by my son’s conduct, as the other children’s flustered mother came over to remove them. I was shamefaced as I apologised, feeling furious at my son’s apparent selfishness and inability to share.