And so thinking about others being bullied brings up feelings and anger and angst in me I didn't really know were there.
Tonight, as I was making dinner (okay, making is a very loose term, I was rewarming leftovers) Noah piped up to ask, "Mom what is does it mean if someone calls you a 'retard'?"
And chills ran down my back. Not only is that a word I hate. Hate. I knew this conversation couldn't be going anywhere good.
I'll step back for a minute. While Noah is our spitfire, he is also one of the sweetest, most loving, affectionate people you could ever meet. And he wears his heart and opinions on his sleeve.
Lately, because Eli is addicted to Elmo, Noah has re-adopted his love of the high-pitched, red, furry, I-talk-about-myself-in third-person character. He loves it because Eli loves it, and he loves being with his brother and having fun. In fact, while I take a minute to dash this post off, he and Eli are watching one of the Elmo DVDs.
Yesterday at school, he evidently shared with a friend that he thinks that Elmo is cool. And that friend responded by teasing him.
As he told me that story I was really torn. What do you say? Do you encourage your kid to keep being true to who they are and stand by what they want to do? Even if that means watching Elmo? And getting teased along the way?
Or do you give into that wince you felt right away and say, "Well, that was rude of your friend to say, but dude, Elmo is kind of for babies?" Okay, I wouldn't say it like that, but you get what I am saying.
I kind of did a hybrid of both. More of the former and less of the latter.
But then he came home tonight and, as we got into the conversation about what it might mean if someone called you a "retard," it came out that a third grade girl on his bus has decided to pick on him. Daily. She calls him names. Including that one. She singles him out. She makes up lies about him and tells them to the bus driver. She is trying to get under his skin. And today, she finally did.
My first response? Mama bear. I want to hunt her down and kick her. And then some. I wanted to show her what it felt like to have someone bigger than you pick on you. What it felt like to have anyone pick on you. I wanted to share a little bit of the misery.
Well that might be a bit strong, I wouldn't really kick a third grader. But I definitely had my Mama Bear instincts come out. Protect or attack? Protect or attack? Or both?
I don't know what to do. But I feel like I need to do something.
Any thoughts?
