Mean girls and the hurting words

Chicky, CC and I are part of a playgroup that meets once every week. It's one of those groups that are equal parts playtime for the kids and sanity saver for the moms. This week, seeing as we were experiencing one of our only nice days in the past five thousand years (at least), the group decided to have it at a local park.

Fresh air and sunshine, just what everyone needed. Desperately.

In this playgroup there is a for year old boy whom we'll call "B". B. adores Chicky. It's really cute, in a horrifying, this-is-your-future-with-teenage-girls type of way. The two of them, to quote Forrest Gump, are like peas and carrots, and when we take our leave of these get-togethers B is almost always there to give Chicky a huge hug goodbye. Like I said, terrifying and adorable, all at the same time.

When we arrived at the playground this week B was already there and from fifty yards away we could hear him screaming, "Chicky is here! Chicky is here! Hi Chicky!!" To say he's always excited to see her is an understatement.

(Mental note to lock this one away for the next 13 years until he shows up at our door to take Chicky out on a date. Just remember, kid, I know your mom.)

But my child was fickle that day. She didn't want to play with B or any of the other kids in our playgroup. She wanted to play with her new friend, the little girl whom she met on the swings and was instantly captivated by.

(Name: unknown. Because really, why bother with inconsequential details when making new BFFs?)

The two girls ran around the large play space as fast as their little legs could carry them. Which, apparently, was pretty fast seeing as how poor B couldn't quite keep up. It got to the point where, dejected, he ran back to his mom and cried, "Chicky and that girl won't let me play with them. They don't like me."

The look on his tear covered face nearly broke my heart. My kid was causing that pain. Uh uh, this is not working. So I called Chicky over and asked her nicely to include B in their games, to which she replied, "No", and ran off.

I've got so much control over that kid. It's spooky.

But B., not giving up so easily, kept trying. He ran where they ran and sat where they sat. And from the sidelines I cheered him on while his mother and I inwardly wondered if and when we should step in.

What came next was told to me by B.'s mom.

While I busied myself with CC and her mulch-eating obsession, thinking my child was playing so nicely with this new girl she had met, Chicky and her new, unnamed friend were swinging, not allowing B. to take a turn. And as one girl descended from her movable perch toward B. she would chant, "Dumb" while the other swung upward. Then the other girl would swing down and chant, "Dumb", and so forth and so on. "Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb." That's what B. heard.

I watched as B.'s mom stepped in and removed her son from in front of the girls but didn't know the reason. Like I said, I was busy making sure CC didn't get too much fiber from the playground mulch. I was busy chatting with the other moms. I was... Okay, to be truthful, I never thought Chicky would ever say anything like that to another child.

But she did.

Taking her cue from the other girl, she wielded this new word like a weapon. She was drunk off the heady feeling that comes from watching another person react to something you say. I honestly don't think she knew what she was doing but she was enjoying the shock value, not understanding the pain she was causing.

We've had discussions about the word Stupid and why she should never use it in relation to another person, or to ever use it at all really. We've had long talks about why that word is hurtful, the meaning of it, and so far all that work as been successful. She knows not to say it, will correct others when they do and gets upset when she hears it used in a pop song on the radio. But while I was worrying so much about the usage of one word, I forget to mention it's synonyms.

I'm giving myself the ol' pat on the back for my foresight.

In the end, I apologized profusely to B.'s mom for missing it all and she, in turn, was very gracious and understanding. She had removed her son from the two girls and admonished them for the name calling, making the executive decision to not allow the kids to work it out for themselves and seizing the opportunity to teach everyone a valuable lesson. The other girl's mom came over to apologize as well.

In the end, Chicky and B. were friends again, as four year old's are often inclined to be even after hurtful things are said and Chicky's new friend went home, probably never to be seen by us again.

Chicky, on the ride home, was given a stern lecture about hurting words and how they affect others.

And I made a mental note to break out my thesaurus.

CC, however, has not yet made a commitment to stop eating mulch.

One thing at a time.