Yesterday afternoon found us at track practice. This trip, the drama was centered around the playground, not the woods, thank goodness.
Big E was busy running his little booty off.
Little E was blissfully playing on the playground.
MOM! THAT GIRL SAID BAD THINGS TO ME! SHE SAID SHE WAS GOING TO KICK ME IN THE HEAD!
Little E ran up to me and pointed to a girl a little older than him (from now on referred to as Mean Girl). His bottom lip quivered.
I took at deep breath. What creature of Satan would pick on Little E?
If it were Big E, I wouldn't even bat an eyelash. He probably did something to provoke it. But Little E? Aw, hell no. That kid sh*ts rainbows. His morning breath smells of Cinnabon. He's perfect.
In my calmest voice, I told Little E that if she said anything else nasty to him, that he should look her in the eyes and tell her in a stern voice:
YOU CAN'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT.
What I really wanted Little E to tell her was that his mom was crazy and not afraid to cut a b*tch and she better move her mean self along. But I played it cool.
He seemed on board with the plan and ran back to play.
Less than a minute later, I heard a high pitched scream come from the playground. It was Little E. Mean Girl did say something else to him and he let her have it. Not in the stern voice I recommended, it was more like an opera solo.
It shocked me and I asked him to lower his voice. But I'm not going to lie, I was so proud of him. Little E got right up in Mean Girl's face and told her what was up. Hang gestures and all.
After that, I moved closer to the playground to monitor what was going on. Her mother was texting herself into oblivion and had no idea that her daughter was being a turd. I made eye contact with Mean Girl and without speaking, I told her to leave my sweet baby alone. Or else.