Gang Banging
My son has joined a gang. My son, at seven years of age, has joined the Mousies. They got caught today defacing school property and having a Sharpie fight with their rival gang, the Kitties. At three members each, it may be a stretch to call them gangs, but still, you have to nip this sort of behavior in the bud, right? My son, leader of the pack. For the Mousies. Hopefully I will remember this when he hits his teens and I can remind him that he used to lead a gang called the Mousies. And that their rivals were an all-girl gang called the Kitties. There are no gang colours or tats so far, but considering that one of his classmates still dreams of being a Tattoo Artist when he grows up, can the tats be far behind?
From what I gather, today’s Sharpie battle is a continuation of yesterday’s rumble, which was broken up by a Doodie (or, as someone older than seven would say, a Duty). My sweet little boy, turning into a common thug. And to think, it was only this morning that I thought the biggest issue in his life was that another kid was trying to move in on his smookie-cuddle-wuvybear. Sigh . . .
