The following event happened at our house recently, which can only be described as most unsettling.
It seems there's a neighborhood boy who is crushing on my daughter. (who can blame him? she's a stone cold fox) But anyway ...... They are both in 3rd grade and ride the same school bus. I hardly know the kid, but he seemed OK. (although Holly's not interested)
So, this boy -- I'll call him Tim -- rang our doorbell recently and asked if Evan could play. Evan was flattered, as this was an older boy wanting his company.
They went straight to the basement, which houses a mother lode of toys, as well as the ping pong table and GameCube. They seemed to have a great time. I wish the story ended there.
The next day at school, Holly was teased mercilessly. You know why? It seems that "Tim" snuck into her bedroom (off the basement) and rummaged through her panty drawer while Evan was pre-occupied. He went straight to school the next day and told his 3rd grade buddies all about it. Yes, it's true. Does anyone else feel violated?
Holly came home from school SO embarrassed and in tears, telling me all this. Can I tell you that I felt a righteous anger rising inside?! My first instinct was to call that boy's mama!
We didn't have Tim's phone number, but knew which street was his. So I pulled out the phone book and hunted ..... and hunted ..... for their listing. (they have a common last name) I finally found a listing with the right last name and street -- and MADE myself dial the number. I usually avoid conflict, but when you mess with my kid, honey, I dig deep for a backbone!
My heart was thumping rapidly as I dialed and waited for an answer. I really hadn't thought through how exactly I was going to approach the topic or how the "other mother" might react ...... but when she said "hello" I started into my spiel which went something like this:
Me: Hi, I live the next street over and wondered if you have a son named "Tim"?
Her: Why, yes, I do.
Me: Well, Tim rides the school bus with my children and was over playing at our house yesterday.
Me: And, um, we had a little problem.
Her: More Awkward Silence..........
Me: Were you aware that he was over at our house?
Her: Maybe I should tell you that my son Tim is 32 years old.
Me: OH, well perhaps I have the wrong number.....
THANK GOODNESS she spoke up before I launched into "your son is a pervert who rummages through young girls' panties" then tells all his friends!!!
I guess I'll have to go to Plan B and write a note, because all the shovels in the world couldn't dig up a backbone enough for me to actually ring their doorbell!