Like Mother, Like Son
I was with my friends on the school playground after hours when I was ten years old. Some kid was being a jerk. He had been tormenting another kid for half an hour, and it finally got to the point where this guy had pulled the kid’s pants down and was calling all around the playground, trying his best to embarrass the poor victim. Something inside me snapped.
I ran across the playground and plowed into this kid, knocking him up against a steel bar, telling him he was a jerk while giving the other kid a chance to pull his pants up and make his escape. The jerk ran across the street, back home, and called his mom. His mom came over. This full-grown woman berated me—a ten-year-old kid—for a good minute or two, but I stood firm. I simply told her that what her son did was wrong, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.
She walked away and dragged her spawn with her.