Horrifying Conversations with Mini: The Sharp Stick

Last week I had a long conversation with my kids about being nice to others, things mean kids do, what to do if you see something cruddy going on, what to do if you find yourself involved in something cruddy, etc. I tried to impart some wisdom, give them a chance to talk about what's going on at school, and overall - I thought the conversation went pretty well. But apparently it did not, because the take-away for my 5 year old was that MEAN KIDS ARE EVERYWHERE SO CONSTANT VIGILANCE IS REQUIRED.

This morning we walked to the bus stop. The three kids, the dog, and I all tumbled out of the house like we were coming out of a damn clown car because some people have never learned to walk through a door one at a time. Mini paused and stared at the stick that lives on my front porch.


A little back story about the stick. It's a special stick that her brother sharpened into a sword using his Cub Scout pocket knife. It lives on the front porch, under the hedge, so he and the neighbor kids can have pick up games of… I don't know, some game where they run around our yard with "swords" defending their realm. Because I may have possibly thrown a mini-conniption about the Cub Scouts giving my 8 year old a knife, my son is now terrified that I will ban anything having to do with pocket knives, whittling, pointy whittled sticks, etc. He is on thin ice where the knife is concerned, and he knows it. So that stick is a talisman for his fear of losing his precious, periodic and well-supervised access to his (wildly dangerous!) pocket knife.

Mini paused on the porch and reached for the stick. Her brother was not having it.

Hawk: DON'T EVEN TOUCH MY STICK!!! MOM!!!
Mini: But I need it.
Hawk: MOOOOOMMM!!!
Mini: I need it. You go make another. I need this one. (reaches for it)
Hawk: No!! NOOOOOOO!!!! (He screams like he just found out Vader is his father)
Mini:  BUT I NEED IT!!! (At the same time)
Me: Oh for the love of Pete. Settle your britches, it's fine. And Mini! That is your brother's stick, don't touch it. And you don't need it, so start walking or we'll miss the bus.
Mini: (glaring, furious) I do need it. Fine! I'll get my own stick.

Of course in a matter of seconds, she managed to find a stick that somehow had been sharpened by nature into a deadly point. She then carried it proudly, like a saber, with a scowl on her small face. As we crossed the street, I waved to thank a car that had stopped to let us pass. The older kids smiled at the driver as they walked in front of his car. Mini glared at him and pointed her stick menacingly as we crossed. She didn't lower it until we were all safely across the street.

We turned the corner and saw a nice woman walking her dog on the other side of the street. She waved at us and said "hello." We all said "hi" back, except for Mini, who gave our neighbor the Joan Crawford face and brandished her stick again. The dog looked interested, but the lady looked kind of alarmed.

A moment later, the bus pulled up. We hugged and smooched the big kids and as they clambered onto the bus, we said goodbye to them.

Me: Bye! Have a good day! See you at 4:15! Love you!
Mini: I already miss you! Have a good day! IF ANYONE IS MEAN TO YOU I WILL COME TO YOUR SCHOOL AND STAB THEM WITH MY STICK! ((makes vicious stabbing motions)) Love you!

At which the bus driver's face did this:

I know when I'm being judged as a parent and, in this case, it's fine. I mean…what is there to say? My baby is a precious little cupcake that occasionally says truly horrifying things. It is what it is. I nodded at the bus driver to let her know I understood. Then I took my tiny assassin by the hand and walked back up the hill. By the time we got home, she had given the stick to our dog, who was happily chewing on it.  Apparently, the message had been sent to the outside world, and we were going to be safe from neighbors, passing cars, and mean kids after all.

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