Tuesday, August 24, 2010
It’s no secret that kids can be mean. In fact, I often think about the type(s) of shit that my daughters will inevitably have to put up with as they get older and wonder what, exactly, my role as their mother will be. I mean, obviously, I will be there to encourage them, pat them on the back and utter a well-placed, “There, there,” and all of that jazz. But what about when it comes to the other kids and their parents? This is something that I have pondered quite a lot today, as I witnessed a shocking act of nastiness that was directed at my wee one.
See, when Munchkin and I take Midget to school we usually end up sticking around for ten minutes or so for a variety of different reasons. Either I’m having an impromptu chat with one of the teachers, or Munchkin decides that she would rather run laps around the classroom than come back to the car with me, or, in this case, Midget decides to turn on some totally out of character separation anxiety that forces me to stick around longer than I have to (since getting the hell out of the classroom involves me literally prying her off of my leg while one of her teachers is all “Do you want to be my helper?” or something similar while Munchkin casually observes, or is harrassed by one or more little girls who just don’t quite know how to interact with a teeny baby -- not that Munchkin is "teeny" by any means). This morning was no different, except that Munchkin was just hanging out no more than two feet away, waiting patiently for me and (probably) wondering why her big sister was being all weird about us having to leave.
Some strange kid SPIT in my youngest daughter’s face.
I was (and still am) PISSED. However, it’s not like I could truly tell some other person's kid the things that were running through my mind in the middle of a pre-school. All I could do was sputter an insanely douchey, “HEY!!! That’s NOT NICE!” as this bratty little stranger pranced away, a look of defiance(?) in her eyes. I hopped up and led my perplexed 22-month old over to the sink where I immediately wet a paper towel and started wiping the spit off of her face, out of her hair, and off of the arm she silently held out to me. When I was done with the whole de-sliming process I told one of the teachers because, really… what else could I have done? If I had had my way, I would have smacked that little girl so hard that her facial structure would have been irreparably damaged. (Or at the very least dragged her ass across the room so I could make her apologize.) Some might attribute that type of statement to my poor temper; I attribute it to being fiercely protective of my loved ones – ESPECIALLY my daughters.
As for Munchkin, she totally handled it better than I did. As I mentioned previously, she was completely perplexed; she gave me her patented “The FUCK was that about?!” look and remained completely composed, which is actually really good for her, as she is all about other people staying at arm’s length, lest they get a teeny hand to the face and/or head followed by what can only be described as a terribly shrill war cry.
Alas, it is almost time for me to return to the scene of the crime, and I can’t help but wonder if I should consider placing a polite note into the cubby of Spitter-McSpitterson, letting her parents know that she’s an asshole, or if I should just leave well enough alone.
Or… If I should tell Midget, who shares a class with this mean little brat, if she should just so happen to stick out a large, Midget foot the next time the offender walks by her. (Then again, there is a very real possibility that Midget has already taken action, as I have seen her tell classmates to “be NICE to my SISTARRRHHH!!”)
(It should also be noted that I’m not condoning violence in any way. If you are reading this, please note that I never said that smacking the kid would be okay. Did it run through my mind? Of course, but it’s something I would never do. Because I try to keep it civilized.)