THE MEAN PEOPLE

Dear Spike:

You were working on a picture when I arrived to pick you up from day care the other day. A pink and purple unicorn, I think it was.

You looked up, acknowledged my presence, and resolutely returned to your artwork.

“Wanna stay a while so you can finish it?” I asked.

“Yes please,” you said without looking up from the page.

“OK.”

I perched on the edge of a bookshelf, right behind you, and chatted with the day care instructors. They always seem so happy to have an adult to talk to. Go figure.

You just kept on working on the picture.

On the other side of the table was a tall girl in a pink shirt. We’ll call her… oh, I don’t know… how about “Larry”?

“Uh-oh!” Larry said, patting you on the arm. “Your dad is leaving you!”

You turned around in an obvious panic to find me still sitting exactly where I had been. You turned back around and scowled at the little girl, who laughed and laughed.

“You tricked me,” you said. “And it’s not very nice to trick people.”

The girl laughed some more. A few moments later, she tried the trick again.

“It’s not very nice,” you said once more as she laughed alongside another little girl. “And it’s not very nice to laugh at people.”

I was very proud of the way you responded. I just wanted to let you know that. I also wanted to let you know that Larry won’t be the last person to be mean to you. Not even close.

And girls, it seems, can be especially cruel to one another.

You consider Larry a friend, but over the past few days, as I’ve asked you questions about her, something has become very clear: Larry is a mean girl.

I didn’t think the “Queen Bee” phenomenon started this early in life, but apparently it does.

“She won’t let me play with Ella,” you told me. “Because she says that Ella is only her friend and so she can’t be my friend.”

“She says I’m not very smart.”

“She says that I can only play with her when she wants to play with me. Today she didn’t want to play with me.”

Yup. Mean girl.

Today was your preschool Christmas concert. All the kids wore pajamas and, in her princess nightgown, it was hard to not think of Larry as just another adorable kid.

But when you all lined up to begin singing, Larry began elbowing you out of the way.

You held your ground. On the next song you changed places so that you wouldn’t be standing next to her. Again, I was very proud — and even more so as the carols continued and you decided, apparently all on your own, that the songs would go well with a bit of interpretive dance.

That’s my girl.

I could be over analyzing this situation. And maybe I am. But I think I might have gotten a glimpse today at why Larry is so mean to you. That’s what happens, sometimes, to kids who stand out.

Let’s be clear: That’s not an admonition to stop standing out. Not at all. Being different, kind and smart — these are the things that make life worth living. I want you to stand out — even if it means that sometimes, you’ll get knocked around a bit by some mean girls (and probably some mean boys, too.)

It won’t always be easy. So it will be important, when you’re going through those moments, to remember a few things:

First and foremost, when it seems like nobody cares, remember that your mother and I love you. Unconditionally. Forever.

And next, when it seems like it will never end, remember that life gets better. And better. And better some more. (But only if you are different, kind and smart. If you’re not, then your life will not get any better. It will just get lonelier. Because mean people get really boring after a while.)

And finally, if it ever begins to feel like the mean people are right about you, remember that they are not as different as you (they don’t have the courage.) They are not as kind as you (they don’t have the heart.) They are not as smart as you (they don’t have the brains.)

That’s right, my little one: You’re like the Lion, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow. In the end, you’ll get your just rewards.

And those mean girls? They’ll just melt away.

Love,

dad