Mom, I want to be kewl like Spencwer*. He's so kewl.
What do you mean, Ethan?! You're totally cool! Oh, and honey, put your tongue to your top teeth to make the l sound like your speech teacher says.
He just so kewl, mommy. And he says I can't be kung fu master because I not a big boy who's five...I only four. And I want to be kung fu master and I want to be kewl.
Despite the lack of context about the kung fu master game, or explicit details on how EJ's master ambitions were stymied by Spencer, I did what any hot-headed mama bear would do and flipped out immediately over this huge problem. I shot up, mumbled something about needing to blow my nose, and left the room to cry for a good two minutes about how the cruel, cruel world had messed with my sweet, sweet boy. Upon returning with mascara-smeared eyes, my sadness shifted to straight-up, claw brandishing anger over the blond little turd who had caused my boy to question his kewlness, err, coolness. Where had I left my brass knuckles again?
Now let me remind you, I am a teacher. An elementary school teacher. Ish like this happens on the daily and I'd like to think I handle it with a certain panache. I consider myself a recess-problem dog whisperer, only with kids. The pied piper, without the cliff. I help, and problems seem to dwindle or dissipate. Apparently, that's only teacher me. Mom me was at a loss about what to do.
Back to EJ's room. I collected myself as different emotions pulsed and pulled, and my little boy stood starting at me expectantly. I knew I had a captive audience for only a minute before his four-year-old-ness took over and made him fart or go grab one of the monster trucks strewn about on the floor. I had to come up with something good. And then it hit me. This wasn't only about Spencer. It was about all the jerks EJ will encounter in Kindergarten and beyond.
I think all you can really do to prepare your kid for jerks is to remind him or her that they are awesome and then give them options of what they can do in the trenches. This is what I said:
Ethan J, you are an awesome, kind, funny, smart kid. When Spencer tells you you can't be kung fu master, you can tell him that he's your friend, but he's not the boss of the game and you want a turn, you can go find another game you want to play, or you can run up to the teacher and tell on his ass (okay, I didn't say the last one like that). No matter what you decide to do, you are already cool.
EJ paused for a moment, let out a huge burp, and smiled triumphantly, "That burp smelled! Okay mommy, now I want to go to bed." So much for that.
A few days later, I checked in. EJ was puzzled at first, but then seemed to recall the problem and our conversation. "I like to play Lego master and not kung fu master now mommy, so I fine." Maybe he did hear my advice after all.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved. Really, I just want EJ to still be invited to birthday parties so I can scope out mom friends.
