Kindergarten Bully

Yesterday, I picked the boys up after school. There they sat in the gymnasium with their matching lime green backpacks and their tired slumped over posture. But lastborn was sporting a black eye.

I wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not. I wasn't sure whether to assume he had started the fight or had been on the receiving end of the fight either, but I was really curious as to how it had gone down.

Mommy: So how did you get the black eye?
Last born (with a big smile): I don't know
Mommy: You don't know? How could you get a black eye and not know how?
Lastborn: I don't know! My teacher asked me how I got the black eye too, but I don't know.
Mommy: Well you must have done something that hurt. That's quite the black eye.

We walk across the parking lot to the car.

Lastborn: Do you have a mirror? I want to see my black eye.

He climbs into the car and I strap him in. As I do, I notice his hands are covered with black magic marker. You know how kids hands get dirty because they rest them on the paper before the marker dries. My eyes travel up to his face and the thought occurs to me that maybe that's not a black eye after all.

A little spit on the finger and a wipe proves that the black eye was actually marker rubbed from hand to eye. The black marker had mixed with his sweat to form a perfect smudged black to purple to blue. A little on the cheek bone below the eye. A little on the outer lid and a lot on the brow bone above the eye. A practiced stage makeup artist couldn't have done better.

Imagine his teachers surprise at his quick recovery today.

I had been thinking of taking a picture of his first black eye and now I wish I had before I wiped it off. It would have been fun to have a picture of the black eye that wasn't.