Let's Teach Our Children Not to Be Assholes

I was blessed with such a thoughtful son. He holds doors open for anyone older than him. Sometimes he even remembers to put his napkin in his lap. And sometimes, he remembers to use said napkin instead of current T-shirt to wipe his face.

In our apartment complex, there is a little sociopath. We'll call him Braiden. Braiden is a little younger than my son. His hobbies include: throwing large rocks at Kobi and hitting Kobi whenever an adult isn't looking and all the kids are playing outside on the grass. The day Braiden broke Kobi's glasses was the day I'd had enough. I would just go talk to Braiden's parents. Surely they were sane, salt of the earth people, and we could just clear this matter up! I headed over to their apartment excited to make a positive change.

Poppa Sociopath answers the door. He's "so sorry" that Braiden has targeted Kobi, and he's actually noticed it, too. Things are a little strained but fairly pleasant. Then he hits me with it. "Braiden has ADHD and wasn't given his medications today on accident. So you'll just have to excuse him today." And the $500 glasses? "Well Braiden says he didn't do it and I believe him you know? I can tell when he's lying. So." Did I just fall into the twilight zone?! I want to ask Braiden's dad how the weather is on the planet he is living on, because it cannot be Earth.

Here's the thing: Kobi has ADHD too. We choose not to medicate him at this time. We focus on breathing and grounding techniques. He has weekly therapy and we do guided meditation. These tools keep it under control for us. For now. ADHD is not a catch-all excuse for poor behavior, nor is it an excuse for any child to be an asshole.

A few days pass. We have an order put in for a new pair of glasses (with a warranty, no less). We round the corner to go to our apartment and there's Braiden. His toy of choice today is a rather large stick that has been sharpened into a large point on one end by an adult. Certainly they talked with him about all the kind hearted, swell things he's going to do with that kind of stick... I keep Kobi inside and let him play video games instead of making him the play outside this day. I can see so many scenarios involving that stick and that mini sociopath, going round and round in my head.

Later that week, we go out to a restaurant with friends. We order and kick back waiting for our food. At some point, a four-year-old outran his parents. He is now under OUR table, screaming his head off that "You'll never find me! Hahaha!" To his parents. Whom I do not know nor do I care to know them. After 15 minutes of the under-the-table show at our table, a female, presumably his mother (please?) comes by to fetch him. They argue back and forth about whether he should come out, very LOUDLY, as we attempt to eat our dinners. Finally the mother-person says "You can have gelato if you will come out!" This tactic works and we are back to civilized restaurant eating.

Hey, lady-who's-kid-ran-under-my table-and-threw-a-fit, I think you owe our whole table gelato now.

Oh, and thanks. For raising an asshole. Oy!