My Sad Boy

I've just got in from the school run. My last ever Monday school run before the end of my maternity leave.

I could sit & cry.

Not because it's my last Monday but because I've had to leave my sad, despondent looking little boy feeling a bit rubbish and I now won't see him until 4:15pm after Sports Club.

I have mentioned briefly before that I think W is a 'Highly Sensitive Child', one of 15-20% of people for whom life is just that bit harder thanks to their extra sensitivity.
I'm in the process of looking into this and reading a great book which encourages helping them, and you, to embrace their qualities as an HSC rather than 'toughen them up', which could easily be the temptation.

The HSC might not be a great sleeper, he might be very particular about food, he might be uncomfortable in certain materials, he might be sensitive to bright light or loud noise, he might feel physical pain more acutely, he is also likely to be very intelligent and in tune with the world around him, feel empathy, cry at films or stories, he feels emotional pain more intensely and his feelings are easily hurt.
Toughening him up wouldn't change a thing. He'd just be confused.

Of course, HSC's grow into HSP's. There is a 'test', which is non-conclusive but can give an indication. You need a score of about 13 as a child to suggest you are an HSC and 18 as an adult to suggest you are an HSP.
W got 18, Mr TM got 27, I got 24. There are some high emotions in our house.

And a quiet telly.

Back to this morning...

We've had a nice, calm weekend, all been fine. W told us on Friday that 2 boys had said he was rubbish at football (he is a bit) but that they'd shaken hands after speaking to an adult at school and, so, to all intents and purposes, it was dealt with. Incidentally, it was that little shit, A, from Other Boys' Mummies .
I knew he was still upset so Mr TM had a chat with him and we discussed how he could deal with that situation if it arose again;

'WOW! Wayne Rooney! Nice to meet you, can you teach me some skills?'
'I know, we're all good at different things. I'm very good at reading & writing'
'Why don't you teach me to be better at football & I'll teach you something I'm good at?'

The first one had him splitting his sides. My instinct is that he'll use that one.

So Mr TM handles it beautifully, mood lifted, bedtime. Done.

Until this morning, as soon as we arrived, we saw one of the boys and I saw, watched on his face as it all flooded back and his precious, sensitive little soul was hurt all over again. 
What can I do? It's been dealt with, the teachers sorted it out, they defended W, the children shook hands, it was 3 days ago, the other boys will have long forgotten their silly, typical, hierarchy establishing, testosterone boosted, mob mentality remarks. They are just 5 year old boys. They're not particularly cruel or wrong or bad. They're just boys.

But W feels it, feels every little thing, much more intensely than he should. I made jokes with him, told him it's a new day, cuddled, mollycoddled, smiled, told him to smile. 
Then I stood at the window watching until he got to his classroom (us teachers HATE this), hoping that he would run in, messing about. He didn't though, he just walked in, not smiling, looking a bit upset. And now I'm crying as I type because I know I didn't make him feel better.

It's a cruel world out there and I have no idea how to help him handle it.