i know i bitch a lot about my son, but when the princess was little she could wreak her fair share of havoc. like at daycare when she took her friend’s hair bow into the coat closet and cut it up into little pieces with her safety scissors.
princess was also the object of some unwanted attention in the form of being the designated bitee of one playmate named powell. powell was a bad biter and princess would come home almost weekly with a bite on her arm that had broken the skin. as you can imagine, i was terribly upset and spent quite a bit of time
screaming discussing this with the center’s staff and demanding that they do something. then one day i got the following phone call at work.
daycare center: uhh, mrs. X? we’ve had a small situation here at the center.
me: (dear sweet effing lord what now?) yes…
DC: well, we’re not exactly sure how this happened but some of the kids were playing and things got a little rough and somehow… princess bit powell on the penis.
DC: hello? mrs. X?
me: what?! how did this happen? was he wearing pants?
DC: yes, it was over the pants.
me: (relieved and stifling giggles.) so is… *everything* ok?
DC: well, his father is coming up to check it out.
me: wait, so you haven’t even LOOKED to see if he’s ok?
DC: well, there are privacy issues here.
me: please help me to understand this. you have been changing this boy’s diaper since he was 3 months old but NOW you can’t check to see if his penis is bleeding?
DC: well, he’s older now.
me: he’s two.
DC: when his dad gets here he will check it out.
me: do i need to come down there?
DC: no. we’ve filled out an incident report. you can sign it when you come after work.
ok. i’m thinking, so my daughter finally retaliates after being mercilessly chomped on for months and the area she picks is his junk. nice job. after ascertaining from the center that powell was fine and the inspection by his father had yielded no evidence of any kind of teeth marks, i tried to piece together what happened.
me: so tell mommy EXACTLY what happened. i’m not angry.
princess: well, me and robert and powell were playing kitty cats…and we were all being kitty cats…
princess: and we were rolling around on the floor…and then someone sat on my head…and so i bit them.
me: thank you baby for telling mommy the truth. run along and play. (bwahahaha!)
THERE. you see, a PERFECTLY reasonable response to having someone plop their ass down on your head.
and we never had a problem with powell ever again.