Darrell got his first taste of playground bullying/pecking order today. There’s no other way to explain it. We went to my best friend’s daughter’s birthday where there were a bunch of kids from the neighboring apartments. My son, being the youngest, was excluded from a few things, i.e. Skateboarding the normal way, getting on a big boy bike, and pushing the birthday girl around until she probably puked.
Needless to say, he was pissed. I was slightly irked. Not at the other children, or their parents, but at my son. Well, not at him per say but the situation itself.
All of my childhood I was picked on for one reason or another. Especially when I moved to Western NY. I don’t know why, I was a weird child. Being 5 feet in the 3rd grade and towering over all the boys and girls doesn’t help either. (An exception: Marla, she’s fabulous). I didn’t really like hanging out with other kids, I really didn’t hang out with anyone really until 9th grade. And even that part is weird and abnormal, all of my friends were seniors.
So… to the point. Enough of me. I didn’t like the fact that my son was being picked on, that God descended on this Earth and chose my son to be the black sheep of the group, and it was fate that he was the one. I didn’t like the fact that he didn’t adapt to the other kids… maybe playing with chalk or running around like a maniac that he is. I didn’t like the fact that he ran inside and cried for a good 10 minutes telling me everyone hates him.
This isn’t something I was expecting so soon, maybe in 1st or 2nd grade… maybe in Middle school even. But before preschool? My worst fear is that my son won’t have the confidence to keep himself above water and to cheer himself on when needed. That school will destroy his soul like it did myself, and even his father.
Is being the black sheep genetic? I really fucking hope not.