I have boys — four to be exact. I have one biological and three who I was lucky enough to share when I married their dad. They are 24, 21, 17 and 9. I’ve seen a lot (shakes head, sighs).
Boys should play — and especially outside. I applaud the parents that let their kids run about, I really do. However, I was just cleaning up after dinner and witnessed three kids attacking each other with WWE style moves, including and seeming to celebrate a chokehold. This wasn’t roughhousing; this was two versus one diving for the kid’s neck. As I type, my spinal cord is shivering. I stood watching for a bit, in case I needed to call 911.
And then I heard: “You’re just a … b**** — you should take it, not be a b**** about it.”
Enough. My mama bear came to the fore and I went out waggling my fingers. Teenage boys, adult 48-year-old female — what do you think happened?
Well, let’s go with, “Oh golly, we’re sorry we worried you, but really, our friend is OK. He’s a cyborg and is indestructible, and further as young, affluent white males we would never, ever think about using a ‘gender slur.’” Yep, and unicorns appeared.
Instead it was, “We did not, we would never.” But when confronted with the truth, “Why do you even care?”
So, is it true? Do our rarefied Island kids grow in a place where it’s OK to bully, and then follow up with sexist taunts? Mercer Island calls itself a village and that’s great, because raising great kids takes a village.