There's a kid in MiniWarriors class that has been fighting with him.
He broke MiniWarriors glasses with a basketball to the face.
He's called MiniWarrior names.
The other day when I picked up MiniWarrior from school, he was frustrated and fighting back tears because he had had another fight with this (punk) kid.
Now my instincts were to march right back into school and find this kid to let him have it over making my MiniWarrior cry--but that would make MiniWarrior a Momma's boy and wouldn't help matters.
Still...a casual kid tripping Mom leg thrown out as the (punk) kid ran by me on the playground was a fantasy I dwelt on a bit.
A week went by where I heard nothing more of the (punk) kid bullying MiniWarrior so I put my trip-the-punk dream in the back page of my mental revenge book.
This past weekend MiniWarrior and I were driving home from shopping when he said:
"Mom, I've decided that (punk kid) and I are going to be sorta friends now."
"Yeah, cuz you know, he's got some problems but he's learning how to be better."
"He is, huh?"
"Yeah. We're all sort of learning so I've got to be patient with him."
"Well that's really mature, Hun. That's very mature, actually. I'm proud of you."
"Hey Mom, have you ever seen (punk kid)'s drawings?"
"No. I never have, is he good?"
"Oh yes! He's really good."
"You know what?"
"I think the next time I see his Mom and Dad I am going to tell them that he is a really good draw-er and that they should take him to a class for drawing."
I turned and looked at my MiniWarrior and felt consumed, again, with the wonderment that follows when I am allowed to glimpse the insides of his heart.
His heart is so big it engulfs everyone around him and wraps them up in the sweetness that is, MiniWarrior.
I'm humbled, Peeps. Humbled.
7 years ago