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Mama Koch enjoying a beach read: Because moral barometers need to relax, too. (photo by Larry Koch)

N o one in my family would accuse my mother of being a rabble-rouser or someone who makes a fuss of any kind. She’s always been a cautious sort of person, aware of the limitations of any situation and highly averse to conflicts of any kind. A less apparent characteristic of hers, though, is a strong sense of fairness that sometimes emerges when she feels someone is getting a raw deal. This is a trait that I am starting to see in myself, although I am probably more drawn to compromise.

When I was about 11, an older boy at school tripped me and I landed on my arm. I tried to be stoical and said nothing about it, but some two weeks later, my mother noticed that I was holding cutlery awkwardly at the dinner table and dragged me off to have it X-rayed. It turned out to be a fracture and I spent another month or two wearing a cast, something that ruled out both piano lessons and swimming.

Since I knew how it had happened and who had done it, she eventually extracted this information that I imparted unwillingly (I wasn't interested in needing another cast so soon). With the damning evidence, she insisted that someone should be held accountable and so she had a discussion with the school’s headmaster, who didn’t think the incident was worth pursuing, attributing it to boisterousness and “boys being boys.” (The culprit, incidentally, went on to become a competitive motorcross rider in the U.K. and probably had more than his karmic share of falls and other injuries thereafter, but this occurred before Google, and no one, so far, has seen fit to fill in the details retroactively.)

At the time I found it humiliating to have been so obviously injured and to know that my mother wanted to make something of it. I was at an age where I was unacccountably embarrassed by my parents at every turn and I wanted to appear more mature and less of a snitch. It was bad enough having to wear a cast and having the circumstances of the accident widely known.

B ut now, as a parent, my perspective has changed. A few times, when we pick up Oliver from daycare, one of the staff has an incident to tell us. Oliver has been both a victim and an aggressor, but we probably hear about the latter more frequently and in greater detail because sometimes they are clearly encouraging us to have a talk with our little hellraiser while it's still in the ain't-it-cute phase and before we have to start saving for his first bail posting.

Judging from some of antics we've seen, at daycare, in the playground and even when Oliver is rassling with his cousin who is just a few months older, I feel pretty confident that while "boys are being boys" (and I include girls in this view as well), all parents involved are poised to immediately broker peace and induce swift apologies regardless of who is at fault. We are relieved when the episode doesn't require a visit to the hospital or doctor (the case so far, knock wood), and then if it occurs at daycare, we're secretly relieved that whatever reprimand needs to take place has been initiated by another authority figure who may even have some more effective tactics to induce performances of apologies and contrition. After getting the goods at daycare, Mimi usually waits until Oliver is calm and able to be a bit reflective to lay in the latest moral lesson.

With these experiences accumulating, I now understand that in my youth, my mother was driven to protect me and to seek redress in whatever way. And I guess if there's a quality to my parenting, it's probably that I want to shield Oliver from the kind of brutish behaviour my mother railed against on my behalf. I may have shrugged off the event that put my arm in a cast - or tried to, wincing and hoping it wasn’t too bad – but I know she was right to try to remedy the situation. Every time I notice Oliver flirting with danger on a climbing frame, or at risk of being bowled over by rambunctious older kids, I feel a drive to protect him that I now see is a normal part of being a concerned parent and which I expect will never entirely dissipate.