Fruit Bat had a hard day at preschool. A boy who was previously woozy with love for FB because of his expert wooden, train-track assembling skills told him that he didn't care to engage in any cooperative foolery. Only I think it came out more as a sulky, "I don't want to play with you." This boy also announced, during show and tell, that Fruit Bat's chosen object (a Dora doll) was 'babyish'. And then there was some, in Fruit Bat's words, Bonking.
All the abuse transformed my firstborn into his own version of an asshole bully. Upon our return home, he turned his feelings of powerlessness around onto Kitty Cat and much screeching, growling and flailing limbs ensued.
We talked at length about the preschool incidents and how they made him feel. We discussed possible motivations for the little antagonizer's behavior. Then I decided that it would cheer Fruit Bat if I relayed a few of the more charming verbal assaults I've suffered. And there have been many. Mostly spurred by my extreme height. But, when I was mentally scrolling through appropriate insults, what I came up with was, "Well, like, people who say they don't like my hair."
And that really hurts. Not liking my hair. I don't think anyone has ever, in my presence, scorned my 'do. Even if someone did, it would be nothing compared to an emotional bonking from a fickle classmate.
Yeah, such injustice helps shape us, builds character, forges what little social skills we might possess. This knowledge, however, doesn't make it any easier when your kid has to board the rollercoaster of interpersonal relationships.
All I can do, as his mom, is to be there for him if he wants to talk.
That and pop one of these babies in his stocking on Christmas Eve.
Photo totally stolen from Etsy.