Can't be Beat

little kid got beaten up by a 3rd grader on the bus this week, and I have spent the last two days on the phone and in meetings. It has been a roller coaster of emotions and a highly calculated battle on all sides, and I think I've finally got everyone's attention and have learned this ridiculous bureaucratic dance one must do to get anything accomplished. Exhausted does not even begin to describe how I feel right now--it feels like I've been crying for 3 days, and I've been too mad to cry at all.

Because they are also parents, I believe the school administration now realizes I'm a really good parent...but they will also probably be cringing at the sound of our name for a while. I feel bad about that, but not really. I'm confident they'll get it right if there's a next time, though.

Anyway, little kid is mostly fine and his regular, hilarious self. The day after it happened he came home and did jumping jacks and push ups, and stacked his bean bags up to practice punching them as hard as he could, asking me if I thought he hit hard enough to hurt someone. He's getting karate lessons and permission to defend himself however necessary. (Yeah, I'm that mom now.)

Yesterday morning while we were snuggling, he told me that I was so beautiful that someone should build a building that looked just like me.

"Yeah?" I asked, imagining a huge Kim Jong Il-like statue of myself.

"I'd build it myself, but it would be super hard." He offered.

"True." I said.

"It would have to be a pretty small building because you are pretty small and I really don't know how to do that. But if I could, I would. A building of you--that would be awesome."

Hell yeah, it would. How could you not love this child?

Then today he mentioned that he thought his brother would be rich when they grew up.

"I think you could be rich. You have charisma and you're a hard worker. You're good with people. I could see your bubby being some successful creative genius and you making a ton of money off of something more technical. Or politics! You could be the president!" I told him.

He wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to be the president?"

"You would be famous! And you could change the world."

He looked unimpressed.

"Or you could be a lawyer. Or maybe just a governor or something. Someone who talks a lot would be good."

"Wait, wait!! Who are those guys who boss around the president?"

"Secret service? You'd be a great--"

"No! No! Those other guys...the ones against everything?"

"Do you mean...congress?"

"Yes! I will be a congress." He said triumphantly.

I laughed so hard. Yes. He would be the perfect congressman. God help us all.

Especially this little jerk on the bus.