Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
It takes him a few minutes to settle on vanilla and chocolate, and he doesn’t load it up with the usual gummy candies, sprinkles, and cookies that he normally would. I don’t say anything, I pay, and then lead him back outside. Taking a seat at one of the tables near the door, I settle in and study him as he moves around the ice cream with his spoon. Without a doubt, he’s scared, and probably confused about why I’m not losing my shit. I know for sure he’s upset about getting into trouble when he’s never been in trouble, not at school.
“Alright, bud, talk to me,” I say, and he lifts his head but doesn’t meet my gaze. “I’m not angry with you.” Should I be? Maybe. But after speaking with the vice principal and getting the story from her, I can’t find it in myself to be mad. I’ve raised my kids to stand up for people who are weaker than them, to do the right thing even when it’s uncool, and, above anything else, to be good people. And from what was explained to me, he was standing up for someone who was being bullied and got into a fight when the other kid wouldn’t stop throwing around derogatory slurs. Although the school might not think that his reaction was the right one in that situation, in my mind and knowing my kid, I’m gonna guess that he didn’t feel like he had a choice. Was it the right one? That’s up to interpretation.
“I lost my temper.”
“Yeah,” I agree, and he rubs his lips together. “Do you want to explain what happened?” Dropping his eyes to his cup of frozen yogurt, I see his chin wobble.
“Matthew was calling David names.”
I nod, letting him know I heard him. I got that much from the principal, and I also found out that Matthew’s only real punishment was the black eye Coop gave him. Now that I’m pissed about, especially knowing Matthew’s recent history. But apparently, since the teachers didn’t hear him spewing shit, it’s his word against Coop’s and his friends’, so they can’t hold him accountable.
I’m also gonna guess that his lack of repercussions has to do with Matthew’s parents and the fact that the school doesn’t want to deal with his mom. It’s fucked, but I’ve come to find out that people find it easier to give the loudest people a grace they wouldn’t allow someone else because they don’t want to deal with the fallout.
“He wouldn’t stop even after David told him to.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “When David started crying, I told Matthew to leave him alone, but he just kept saying stuff, and I got mad and shoved him.” His jaw clenches. “He shoved me back, that’s when I hit him, and the teacher came.”
“Do you think hitting him was the right thing to do?”
“I don’t know.” He lifts his shoulders. “Probably not.”
“You know you don’t put your hands on people.”
“I know, I just…” He lifts his shoulders again. “I got mad.”
“I get that,” I tell him softly, and his gaze meets mine. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you put your hands on him, and you did it first. You weren’t protecting yourself from someone attacking you.”
“I know.” I watch tears fill his eyes, and the sight of them fucking cuts me wide open. “Am I grounded?”
“Do you think I should ground you?”
“Maybe.”
Yeah, maybe, but I’m at a loss for what to do in this moment.
Fuck.
Being a parent is hard, and raising kids while trying to navigate this world is exhausting when there are no guidelines. Did he fuck up by putting his hands on someone, doing it first, and out of anger? Yeah. But I can understand his reaction, even if it was the wrong one.
“I’ll talk to your mom and see what she thinks.”
“Great,” he mumbles. “She’s going to be mad at me.”
“I don’t think she’ll be mad, but she will probably be disappointed.”
“That’s worse.”
It is worse. Growing up, I’d rather my parents yell at me then tell me they were disappointed. But it was during those times I learned the biggest lessons. Knowing you let the people you respect down is a harsher punishment then being grounded or spanked, which is not something I never experienced or have done with my kids.
“It’ll be okay.”
His chin wobbles. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I dip my chin to his ice cream. “Eat. When you’re done, we’ll head to the shop, and you can hang in the office and do your homework until it’s time to go home.”
“Okay,” he mumbles, dropping his eyes back to his ice cream. When I see a tear slide down his cheek before he can catch it, I push my chair back from the table.
“Come here,” I order softly, and he gets up from his seat and walks over to me slowly. Even though he’s not small anymore, I pull him down onto my lap and hold him like I would when he was little, when things were simple, and the ugly realities about life hadn’t touched him yet. And I know it’s the right move when he buries his face against my chest and holds onto me tight.