I had to tote all three kids to the church for an activity on Wednesday night because my husband was working late. Joy all around.
The boys brought a basketball and headed into the gym, the only place I'll allow them to run and yell and generally be boys, everywhere else in the church they must pretend to be angels. My daughter went into the activity with me, which was good considering it was for young women.
I told the boys where I'd be if they needed anything and left them to entertain themselves.
Later that night as we were eating a late dinner, I got to hear what they did.
Some bigger kids, boys, were in the gym with an adult. The adult had a punching bag and was teaching the kids with him the correct ways to use it. My younger son kept calling the punching bag marshmallow for reasons unknown to me. After the adult took marshmallow away, the bigger kids were unsupervised for a moment. "Hey, where did those little kids go? Let's find them and beat them up." After all, they had just learned the proper uses for punching bags.
My sons were sitting under a table. I'm not saying they were hiding from the bigger kids, but my sons were under a table in the hallway. My youngest heard what the bigger kids said and relayed the information to his older brother. He said, "Let's do the same thing to them."
My youngest opened the gym door, freckled nose, missing teeth, and mischievous eyes, and yelled, "Hey look! There's some big kids. Let's beat them up!" Laughing hysterically, he let the bigger kids see where he went, almost asking for them to follow.
I'm just glad the bigger kids had the sense not to follow.