The only fight I ever lost

We just returned from yet another family trip. The destination: ideal. The children: not. Unless you consider diarrhea, sleepless nights and getting puked on in the car idyllic. I will do the full write-up next week…should I ever recover. :-)

This morning at Mile High Mamas is all about confessionals. Namely: what kind of kid were you? I was one who drove kids to therapy. The kind who convinced her friends that flushing the toilet actually purified the water, making it safe to drink.

Yeah, that kid.

So, come on over and share what kind of kid you were!


Aimee and Catherine recently wrote great posts about bullying and the subject seems to be everywhere in the media. I am always dismayed whenever I hear about it as my heart goes out to the victims and my wrath to the aggressors.

Until I remember my childhood.

Now, I wouldn’t say I was a full-on bully but I was most certainly bossy. I have recollections of making my friends spend hours on my trampoline, drilling them until they performed their acrobatics to perfection.

It is a good thing I did not know the trampoline would someday become an Olympic sport. Otherwise, I would still have them in training.

Despite my despotic tendencies, I still remain close to my tight-knit group of neighborhood friends. But there was one little girl – Jennifer Degenstein – who lived behind my house that I have never forgotten. I had no reason not to like her. She was sweet, cute and shy. But I decided early on that she would have no part in our posse and would tease her to no end about her last name. Never mind that mine was Borowski, which instilled dread in the heart of every new teacher reading the class roll.

Evidently, I was rude but not rational.

On another occasion, I remember the war my friends and I waged against the girls in our neighboring hood (not to be confused with neighborhood because that is just not as cool). It was the very vilest of debates: who had the best kindergarten class. We were in the morning class. They were afternoon folk.

Back and forth, the barbs flew. “Oh yeah, well we have Phillip Cutler in our class and he’s cute.” “Well, the afternoon snacks are stale and yucky from sitting out all day.”

Yep, it got nasty.

We were on equal ground until Rachel – an afternooner – spoke up. And in the days long before VCRs and DVRS, she inflicted the final blow:

“Well, we get to stay home and watch SESAME STREET while you’re stuck at school.”

It was the only battle I ever lost.

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