So this post is about girls. Me Too had a run-in with the resident Mean Girl today that left her feeling wronged and betrayed when the kids who saw what actually happened didn’t stick up for her.
The details aren’t important, and the behavior of all the children is your standard Lord of the Flies stuff. (Anyone else think that should be required reading for teacher training?)
Me Too came home, and instead of telling me she’d had a shitty day, or reaching for the chocolate stash, or venting on Facebook-all those therapeutic and logical coping mechanisms adults employ- she started picking fights with her brother.
I separated the perpetrators for a bit, but then Me Too started freaking out over her homework. She wanted me to read the problems, she didn’t know where to put the equals sign, etc etc ad infinitum.
After close to two hours of this nonsense (I won’t pretend I didn’t have to step outside for a few cleansing breaths,) finally the Mean Girl talk comes out.
Now she feels better, and I have a massive headache that may require vino and a good cry.
WHY are humans so abysmal at communicating? Would it not be more time efficient to just come home with your tail between your legs or something? Shall we try that?