My Son Being Bullied Might Land Me On ‘Nancy Grace’
There is nothing that burns my biscuits more than hearing that my 4-year-old son is being low-scale bullied by another child. Mama Bear instincts kick in, and that’s when I fear I could end up on Nancy Grace, for attacking the little brat in question. I know I’m not alone in this mentality, but I will openly state it: I have visions of becoming Peyton Flanders-ish, of Hand that Rocks the Cradle, and threatening any child who is hurting my son.
For what itâ€™s worth, I don’t think this is abnormal; in fact, I think it is instinct. In a world where bullying is rampant, who wouldn’t go to great measures to protect her child? Of course, it has to be done in a fairly civil (and legal) manner, but sometimes I think Flanders had the right idea: grab the brat and teach him a lesson. Anyone who says sheâ€™s never thought of it is lying to herself and/or may have huffed too much laundry detergent.
As Riley is only four, I know I have a long way to go as a Potential Peyton. I know there will be little girls who break his heart, parties to which heâ€™s not invited, and rough little boys who push and shove. Even as I accept this as fact, itâ€™s doesnâ€™t make this bitter pill from the bottle of Mommyhood any easier to swallow.
Riley is the kind of boy who prefers to play with the girls for now, because he finds the other boys too rough. Heâ€™s found his niche on the playground of life for now, and subsequently, has garnered more girlfriends than a polygamist in Utah.
Kids can be the greatest little creatures on the planet, but even in greatness, cruelty can be found. It is imperative to me to teach my little ones the importance of kindness to help assist in the battle against bullying, and they will quickly learn that if they donâ€™t follow suit, Mama Bear will roar. I refuse to raise a little bully asshole. The world already has enough, no?
So, when he pointed out the boy who keeps knocking his tower of blocks over and pushes him around, images formed in my irrational head. I wanted to grab the little brat by his elbow and tell him to stay away from my son or else heâ€™d have to answer to me. I mean, Iâ€™m pretty intimidating â€“ baby on hip, coffee cup in hand, juice box stains on my shirt. I wanted to find his parents and ask what kind of little jerk they are raising. Instead, I was in for a surprise, and learned a lesson myself.
The little brat actually loves my son, and apparently talks about him at home. Perhaps he needs to learn a new approach in forging a lasting playground friendship (or maybe heâ€™s a future sociopath), but more importantly, maybe I was in for a much-needed lesson myself: if we are supposed to teach children kindness and forgiveness, itâ€™s important to set the example as parents. And, you know, not end up on Nancy Grace for beating up a child.
Being a mom has taught me many lessons, and there are many that I still need to learn â€“ not just for myself, but to pass along to my kids. I canâ€™t say I wonâ€™t have irrational thoughts for the rest of my time as Mama Bear (and that I wonâ€™t visualize ripping the ears off of your kid if he hurts mine), but donâ€™t worry — Â I promise I will rip my own kidâ€™s ears off if he hurts yours. In the meantime, I have to start to plan the dismantling of that playground polygamist colony my son has started.