A few nights ago as The Mr. and I were settling into bed, Wonderboy calls out and, "Wants to talk to Daddy." With the heavy sigh of dealing with the umpteenth stalling tactic, my husband goes into his room to find out what he needs. Next thing I hear is the unmistakeable sounds of the Wonderboy ramping himself up into an emotional frenzy. The Mr. comes back into our room.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Apparently, WB loaned his giant Pokemon card to Sam last week and now Sam won't give it back."
Not three minutes go by before WB is now in our bedroom, continuing his tale of woe. We manage to get out of him that he loaned this card (purchased for him as a gift by his Grandfather for receiving Student of the Month) to Sam and when he asked for it back, Sam kept putting him off. Of course, righteous indignation asserts itself in The Mr and me. We're giving each other the, "What a little jerk" eyeballs over WB's head as he continues his sob-story.
But then, of course, the plot thickens. It turns out that you are not
supposed to bring Pokemon cards to school, something the WB knows. He just couldn't resist bringing in the illicit goods in to show
off to his friends. The card was loaned to Sam, with the understanding that it would be returned at the end of the week. When WB asked for it back, Sam threatened to tell the teacher that WB had brought it to school. (So, essentially, still a little jerk.)
Now getting in trouble at school is one of WB's biggest fears. Not the simple, "be quiet" kind of trouble, but Serious Trouble. And he knew he was courting danger bringing in the cards as he had
already been told once not to have them at school. So the frustration over not getting his most special card back was countered by the absolute terror of getting busted. All of this we learned through many tears and the hitching of breath that comes with such emotional strain.
We talk it out. WB must approach Sam again. He should tell him, in his own words, that he is not being a very nice friend. We give him permission to use the "My parents will call your parents" threat if he has to. (Of course, he wanted us to do the dirty work for him and asked if we could call Sam's Mom then and there!) We held firm that he needed to try to figure this out himself and if Sam threatened to tell again that WB should let him.
(Ha! We'll call your bluff you little bleepedy-bleep!) That suggestion had the effect of somebody dousing you with ice-cold water while you were sleeping. Once we put WB's eyeballs back in his head, we explained that it would be better for him to be honest and apologetic with his teacher instead of afraid.
He finally calmed down and with many declarations of The Mr. and me being, "really awesome" and "the best," he finally went to sleep.
The next day when I picked him up from school, he very proudly told me that Sam had given him the card back. Of course he used the parental threat, but the fact was, he did it. I was proud of him.
Or, you know, as proud as I can be over a kid who breaks school rules and is foolish enough to loan out his most prized Pokemon possession.
