Riley teaches his poor mother . . .

I have tried since Riley was very little to teach him that he is to be kind to everyone. And he usually is, with a few exceptions here and there. So I found it rather unusual that the last couple of weeks he has been having one of the kids at school call him names. At first it bothered him, and I talked to him and just explained that as long as he (Riley) isn’t doing anything to the other boy to cause this, then it’s okay, and that he has so many other people that love him and want to be his friend, that it really didn’t matter what this little boy thought. I just got a nod and a “dah, of course I wasn’t mean, mom,” look from him, but wondered if Riley had said something or possibly shot back with names of his own at the other kid. It didn’t really bother me at first, because he said he still had fun and played with other kids and so on and so forth. But yesterday it happened again. And this time, it was names and on top of that making fun of him. This time he wasn’t really bothered by it. But it really bothered me, why would someone make fun of someone so wonderful. And when I found out that he tried to walk away from the boys (two of them now) they would run after him and grab his arm and turn him around and not let him get away. And when he finally did, he went and played all by himself. It killed me, what would cause such meanness at such a young age. I didn’t sleep much last night, but finally realized that I was bothered by it much more then Riley was. He really took to heart that he is loved by so many others, and he knows he’s a good kid, that who cares what they think. Well, I dropped him off at school this morning, and I always tell him as he gets out of the car to remember to be nice and do what is right. But ‘stupid’ mom that I am I added a last “And if that boy is mean to you again, just tell him he’s a dork.” Riley turned to me so quickly with the strangest look on his face and said more seriously than I’ve ever heard him say anything before. “Mom, I’m NOT going to do THAT.” Boy was I humbled. My six year old, knows better than his mother, how we are suppose to treat even an enemy. I’m not particularly proud of my parenting skills this morning, but I’m more proud of my son then I have even been before.