You just never know when Mama Bear will swing into action. She’s always there, hovering silently in the background. Waiting. Ready to pounce and defend when the situation calls; a spirit animal with a ferocious loyalty to her cubs. She’ll tear shreds off anyone who dares to interfere with her young.
Well, Mama Bear emerged from her cave today — with a vengeance.
It was the last day of kindergarten for my six-year-old; a day that was meant to be full of celebration and joy, and a time to reflect on those stand out shining moments of the year.
Instead, I was drawn to my son’s bedroom by the sound of crying — deep guttural sobs and moments of silence, as he struggled to compose himself. His shoulders heaving. His face broken. Eyes squinting and pleading. Tears streaming. The whole works. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his room, surrounded by candy canes and cards from his friends. Innocuous enough.

"Does this say 'hate', Mummy?", he asked, holding out a card and silently willing me to reassure him.
He hadn't misread it. For a moment, I considered telling him he had. But the message was clear and he understood it. The card read: "Dear [name], I hat you". Underneath was a perfect heart, upside down with a cross through the middle.
Top Comments
should post a PO box that we could all send NICE cards to him to :)
I remember the good old days when six year olds acted as six year olds and called each other poo poo heads in the schoolyard and no-one could care less.