Driving home from a weekend in Charlotte, Alex and I were eavesdropping on a very earnest conversation coming from the way-back. Zoe was complaining that a friend who sometimes plays at our house, an older boy whose style of play is a little rougher than her preference for, well, the everyone-does-only-what-she-says kind of play...this friend, apparently, has been "shooting" her while they play, and she is not happy with the situation.
Z: "Davis, Joe keeps shooting me. I don't like it."
D: "Did you ask him to stop?"
Z: (with indignation) "Yes, and he didn't stop."
D: "Did you tell Mommy?"
Z: "He's just not going to stop no matter what."
D: (authoritatively) "OK, Zo, here's what you should do next time. First, tell him to stop. Then if he doesn't, come find me, and I'll figure out what to do. "
Monday, June 29, 2009
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