The yellow sticker

Yesterday, Sydney brought home a yellow sticker from school. That is not good. You see, every day each child in Sydney's class brings home a sticker in their folder which tells us a little about their day. There are 4 stickers and they go something like this. Blue is good. Green is fair. Yellow is bad. Red is horrible. On most days Sydney brings home blue stickers. In fact, it is very rarely that she will bring home a green sticker. She will receive a green sticker if she did not listen well, if she was talking when she wasn't supposed to, or if she did not do what the teacher asked. More often than not these are a direct result of Sydney having too much fun and being too giggly with her friends. A yellow sticker, however, she has never received before.

You, like me, must be thinking. Wow, what could she possibly have done? Sweet little Sydney, defeater of cancer, lord of the twerps, how could that be? Well, it happened. You see, every child has a nemesis, another child that torments them. I think this is especially true with girls. It is not really the point of the story but I know because I tormented many of them. Anyway, there is one boy in Sydney's class that is constantly pestering her. Yesterday, in addition to his normal bugging in which teases, pokes, and prods; he made a bad judgement call. He pinched Sydney and it was pretty hard too. It left a welt that was still there when I picked her up from school. Well, Sydney is a little bit like her mother (if you know her, you know what I mean) and she just hauled off and clobbered the boy. She wasn't nice. She wasn't gentle. She hit him as hard as she could. For this, she received a yellow sticker. Well it was for that and not paying attention later in the day but I think that was much more of an accident. Regardless, Sydney hit a boy and now she had a yellow sticker.

Now, with Sydney receiving a yellow sticker she had to be punished pretty severely. I did all of the things I was supposed to. I made a big frowny face after she told me - even though I was secretly smirking on the inside. I told her how wrong and bad it was that she hit one of her friends - even though I secretly thinking "Yippee!" and "Good for you!" and "That's me girl!" I took her home and sent her to the kitchen table where I made her do homework and write "I will not hit my friends" 20 times on paper. She stayed inside and worked on math problems and read chapter books while the rest of us played and laughed outside. She was relegated to her room and she went to bed early as well. I cut her no slack and I used my big frowny face to the best of my abilities. There is no doubt in my mind that she knows what she did was wrong and that I am very, very disappointed in her.

I guess the irony really is that I am kind of glad that she hauled off and walloped the boy. Everyday I have to hear how he pesters Sydney. I have to hear how he got a red sticker and how he bugs her. He constantly calls her names. He is just an annoying nerd. I happen to know this for sure, ironically, from past experience. I was that full-fledged annoying nerd. We all need a good wallop know and then. I got one. So, I guess the point is that I am really not all that mad at her. I understand. I wish she wouldn't have chosen to haul off and hit the boy but I also know that telling the teacher would not do her any good. She has tried that. Perhaps now he will get the message. Just don't tell her I feel this way until she is 20.

It looks like hidden purpose today.