“You’re a weirdo, I don’t want to play with you” said the boy who was roughly a little over a foot taller than my son.

My son’s weird action? He walked up and waved.

In that moment, it hurt. The clenched fist matched the lump forming in my my throat I couldn’t swallow. As the dick child ran off, my son stood there looking confused. He likes to walk up to kids and help them when they fall. He waits his turn or gives his spot in line to kids. He reaches his hand out to hold others’, for no reason other than it’s nice to hold someone’s hand every once in a while. Weirdo, in this household, is something said in a laughing manner. “Oh, you little weirdo!”, after being caught chewing dog food. It wasn’t a word used to exclude.

Not until today.

We have all been in that moment at some, or many, points of life’s journey. A person’s propensity for meanness is something most have become numb to, knowing it will never change. Some of us, myself included, have even been on the giving end,  making another person miserable for simply being alive.

It caught me off guard to see my son treated that way.

I didn’t run over and trip the child who was mean to my son. I wanted to, absolutely, but my clenched fist and I stayed back. As much as I want to fight every battle for my son, I know there are some I have to sit on the sideline and cheer him through, albeit sometimes silently. I didn’t seek out a parent to tell them how they are raising America’s Next Top Douchebag. These are kids, and this will happen the rest of my kid’s life. This was my son’s fight and unfortunately I couldn’t be tagged in.

That is why there was a lump in my throat.

At two years old, my son got his first experience of what it is like to not be liked. At two years old, I watched him be treated differently for no reason whatsoever. In that moment, a little boy, MY little boy, begun a battle we all fight every single day. My son learned people in this world sometimes don’t accept you, even if they have no reason not to. And that, that breaks my heart.

The fact it happened, coupled with the knowledge it will happen again throughout his entire life, it broke my heart.

The judgement. The exclusion. The petty name calling. People not liking you, for whatever you did that rubbed them the wrong way.

It will happen all his life.

At twenty-four, it fucking sucks. 

At two, it doesn’t seem fair. 

Today, at the park my son was called a weirdo by some older boy. Tonight, before he goes to bed I will tell him being a weirdo is perfectly fine and to fly a freak flag high. I will also let him know it is perfectly fine to throat punch pretentious little douchebags on the playground who call him a weirdo.

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6 comments on “Weirdo
  1. Oh, Buddy. I’m SO sorry your baby had to deal with that already…. But the fact that you missed is this: Your baby was not the victim, the other kid was. The other kid didn’t get to experience playing with your baby; he didn’t get to make friends with an amazeballs 2 year old; he won’t know what it’s like to have a friend in a Punk Rock Toddler…. That little shit missed out on all of it! YOUR baby missed nothing… And, if he’s ANYTHING like his daddy, and we know he is, he may not have understood, but it didn’t affect his fun time at the park… If he’s anything like his mama, and we know he is, he didn’t feel sorry for himself, he felt sorry for that little prick because Punk Rock Toddler knows he fucking rocks. Your baby IS weird… But he is weird in the greatest of ways, he is YOURS. <3 all of you fucking punks to the moon and back… Hug that little guy hard and tell him not only is it ok to be weird, but weird is NORMAL. Fuck that other kid. 😉

  2. My heart just sank while reading this post. Your son is still just a baby and to learn this harsh lesson so young totally sucks balls.
    First time each of my kids went through this I had hard time letting them deal with it. My son punched the boy in the nose, he got punished by the school but I didn’t punish him. Ironically they are ow best friends and have been for 20 years now 🙂

  3. I admire your self control in holding back from interfering with the situation as hard as it was! That takes a lot! The blow is still bad and hurts no less. It’s scary out there and we all wish we could protract our babies no matter their age!
    brickhousechick recently posted…Serve Your Man FirstMy Profile

  4. It’s hard to stand back, and watch our kids figure out certain instances on their own. I know there has been many a time I’ve been tempted to rag-doll some douchenozzle kid, especially when they do something towards our spawn, unprovoked.
    Don’t get me wrong, my boys that are 6.5 and almost 8 have done some pretty assholy shit to others. But it doesn’t fly. EVER. I’m not raising them to make others feel bad. And our winning parental moments? When it’s our kids that reach out to the “weirdos”, the different, the socially awkward, and challenged, & make them feel like they belong.
    You’re doing a stand up job, B.
    We all proudly wave our freak flag. United.

    Lisa Tappin recently posted…The Bumpy RoadMy Profile

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