I found myself, with several of our grandchildren, at a giant sandbox. It was a kid's dream, where there was a big "dump truck" loaded with sand and lots of Tonka trucks to play with. It was the same one that my own children had played in, many years ago, when we used to stay at Track Rock Campground up in Blairsville, Georgia. I had the chance to camp with my son and his wife and family for a few days last week, enjoying the beautiful scenery and especially the kiddos. I'm not going to lie...this day, however, I became one of the kids myself. When I hauled the three oldest grands up to the playground (ages 9 and two 4-year-old twins) there were a few other children there, with no other adult present. A little girl, maybe 10 or so, and her brother, maybe 4 or 5, was there. Its a fact that sometimes kids bully each other, but apparently Grandmas are fair territory now. When 9-year-old Annabelle began swinging on a big rope next to the "fort," she was told by said 10-year old that swinging wasn't allowed on the rope. I quickly looked for a sign, saw none and told the informant that Annabelle was allowed to swing. The child proceeded to argue with me, said that it wasn't a swing and that she could get splinters if she bumped the pole next to the rope. I stood up to my full, Yaya-esque height and told the child that if someone got splinters it was their own dang fault and to mind her own business. She clamped her mouth shut and sauntered away. There was plenty of rope swinging done, no splinters involved. I was curious about the dynamics of the child's family. But it didn't take long to find out more...
My crew wound up in the big sandbox, busily scooping and building a town. The afore-mentioned young boy (brother of the 10-year-old girl) walked into the area and began telling everyone that they had to take their shoes off. He said that shoes weren't allowed in the sandbox. Again, I looked around for signs, but there were none (I am occasionally compelled to follow the rules, if there are rules). I told the boy that they did not have to take off their shoes if they didn't want to. He stomped around and demanded individually that they take them off. Then I saw something that brought the steam to my ears...a special needs child, another boy, standing tentatively at the edge of the sandbox. He had tennis shoes on, laced carefully. The other little bully boy was telling him he couldn't come in until he took his shoes off. I then directly addressed the kid, telling him that he did not have the right to tell anyone to take their shoes off and that he had to quit saying that to anyone. I pulled each grandchild to the side, and asked them to invite the special needs boy to come and play with them. They all did that, in their own way, and eventually he carefully stepped into the sandbox. He never did play with them but he found a toy and began scooping to his heart's content. My Mama bear scope was up and I watched carefully for any comment from the demon.
I believe we have to teach our kids how to deal with bullying, but there is a time for adults to intervene, particularly on the front end and the rules are being set. We also have to teach our children by example, to show them to watch out for the weaker amongst us and to also stand up and say no when it needs to be said. In retrospect, I should have not intervened with the bullies, except in having my grands invite the special needs boy to play. I should have pulled my grandkids aside and actually taught them how to speak to the bullies, like my Daddy did for me.
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