(The boy's trying to get his yellow belt in karate. One time he wanted to practice blocking so I tried to hit him, out of love, at precisely the moment The Men who Lunch came up the ladder outside our window. I'm proud to say his blocking is really good, but it probably looked like he was fighting for his life and was used to it, given his level of skill.)
Speaking of swinging at kids, do you think it's OK for me to throw down with a six-year old bully at Lucien's preschool? No? Dammit. Well I've got to do something, for it seems the last time Lucien was injured at school, it was not of his own doing as I assumed. It was the doing of stupid Sammy*.
*speaking of which, did you know Shaggy from Scooby-Doo is called "Sammy" here? Makes me crazy to hear Lucien referring to him that way. We've had recent arguments in which I've threatened to take away all food until he starts calling Shaggy by his proper name. Lucien is a surprisingly strong-willed child, and therefore, oftentimes hungry.
** They also call Velma, "Vera." That one doesn't bother me as much.
***I don't really take away Lucien's food, just his clothing and shelter.
****Now is a good time to mention I'm sick (again), and therefore not thinking clearly.
So anyway, about the bully. Lucien has been nervous to go to school for awhile now, but we couldn't get out of him why. We assumed it was because he's always in trouble at school, because that can't be very enjoyable, so were perplexed when the teacher said he's doing well recently. After a few more questions for a tight-lipped Lucien, we determined he was especially nervous about lunch and recess. Finally, the other night, as he laid once again sick and feverish in his bed, the tears started and the story came out.
Stupid Sammy, a kid one year older but easily twice the size of everyone else in the school, and his goons have been after my boy. It's been getting worse over the past few months, culminating in an altercation last week in which Sammy and his friends shoved my sweet little cuckoo bird into a tree. I know the brute kid is only six years old, but still, I was like, "I WILL CRUSH HIM." Then I realized that's not OK because, again, he's six, so I resigned myself to just hanging him by the band of his underwear on a wall hook and throwing eggs at him.
What? Why are you looking at me like that?
We knew we needed to talk to the teacher about this immediately, but frankly, I wasn't too optimistic anything would be done. I've heard some rough stories in these parts about bullying. The U.S. takes bullying seriously -- some would say too seriously (WHAT? We take things to extremes? Now you're talking nonsense, punk.) I have an American friend here who approached the directrice of her daughter's school because her daughter was a favorite target of a bully on the playground. While she was talking to the directrice about the problem, they watched her daughter get hit by the bully in question right there in front of them. The mom was like, "AGH! SEE?" and the directrice was like, "Nope, no problem here, just kids being delightful!"
Thankfully, as soon as Alex uttered the name "Sammy" to Lucien's teacher the next morning, another parent swung around and said that her son, too, was scared to come to school because of Sammy troubles on the playground. If it had just been Lucien filing a complaint, I daresay not much would have happened. (Everyone at that school knows Lucien is just asking for a beatdown, amiright?) But with two kids giving testimony, and no doubt others waiting in the wings, the teachers are now supposedly keeping an eye on Sammy -- and Alex and I are teaching Lucien some awesome ninja moves in the evenings. We'll get him through it one way or another.
Hey, speaking of being terrified at school, I reached a milestone yesterday. I had a real conversation with Hot Thing Two. I think I made sense! We talked the whole way home, even stopped outside our door to talk some more. I'm pretty sure I didn't make an ass of myself but I guess there's no confirmation of that.
She's a genuinely kind person but I refuse to befriend her. If I befriended her, she would find out about the blog someday. And then she would see what I wrote about her and her husband, even if it was just calling them hot and scary. Then she'd find out I took sneaky photos of them. And then, oh God, word would get out and everyone at the school would know about my blog. And then I would be run out of town by an angry mob. Blogging is a dangerous and lonely business.
I don't know what she's doing, but she does it all the time.
Sleep with one eye open, Sammy-boy,