Helping your children talk back on the playground and other fun parenting lessons

As a child, I never knew what to say when kids picked on me.

This quick wit you enjoy is a recent development.

Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I’d just stare straight ahead and pretend to be deaf. If I went home and complained to my mother, her advice was quaint and ultimately ineffective.

Me: Toby was mean to me today.

Mom: What happened?

Me: He says I’m ugly and no one is ever going to marry me.

Mom: You tell him someone will marry you.

Me: Who?

Mom: John D. Rockefeller’s nephew.

The next day, I tried her pithy response.

Total disaster.

Toby had never heard of John D. Rockefeller and told everyone I was going to marry Bert and Ernie.

A few years later, in junior high…

Me: Allan was mean to me today.

Mom: What happened?

Me: He called me “titless.”

Mom: Tell him ladies don’t respond to such coarse language.

The next day, Allan said I wasn’t a lady until at least a “B” cup.

Years ago, I took my kids to a birthday party at Malibu Grand Prix. You have to be from Tampa to fully appreciate the horror of the situation. Malibu is a whole lotta Redneck Fun – with batting cages, mini-motorway, miniature golf course, thawed pizza, and arcade all available for children and the occasional burned-out adult.

I supervised my children through the putt-putt experience when another child got aggressive with my son. Oldest looked at me as I pretended to pick something out of my teeth.

I thought he should probably try to handle it himself.

He used his words and said, “Step off.”

So proud.

The kid kept at it and my son finally said, “Mommy, he’s hurting my feelings.”

I looked at the bully, his nineteen year-old mother hitting on a maintenance man, and whispered in my son’s ear, “Tell him at least you have a daddy.”

Something kicks in when your child is under attack. In my defense, I am trying to teach my children that words, used properly, are more powerful than punches. This will make high school a hell of a lot easier.

My motherly advice has always gotten me into trouble. Back in preschool, Youngest had problems with a classmate several days in a row. Finally, while eating dinner at my parent’s house, I had heard enough.

Son: Nathan was mean to me today.

Me: What happened?

Son: He keeps hogging the dinosaur toys and won’t let me play with them until he’s done.

Me: You tell Nathan to quit wetting the bed at night. Between that and the thumb – he’s got bigger problems than dinosaur toys.

My son smiled and all was right with the world. Husband and Mom looked horrified.

I should have known something was wrong when my dad offered a high-five.

Sorry, but advice like “Take a long walk off a short pier” is gonna have to come from someone else. At least I haven’t taught them how to curse. Yet.