Mommy Loves Your Bullies Page

Because I love the boy you are becoming. And that boy? He has your bullies to thank.

Not in the way you think. I don’t send them cookies. I don’t high-five their parents at soccer practice. But when you came home with dirt on your new sneakers and that hollow look in your eyes—the one that says, “They got me again” —a very small, very dark part of my chest exhaled. mommy loves your bullies

Last Tuesday, you cried because three boys called your new backpack "baby trash." You asked me, “Why do they hate me?” Because I love the boy you are becoming

I’m sorry I can’t protect you from everything. I’m sorry I let them scrape up your knees and your pride. I’m sorry that the only way to build a backbone is to break a heart first. Not in the way you think

But I am not sorry they exist.

And your bullies? They are survival. They are the raw, feral truth of the playground jungle. They don’t care about your feelings. They don’t care about my organic peanut butter sandwiches. They see your weakness—the same weakness I coddled—and they eat it for breakfast.