Holden is not quite two years old, yet I have already been forced to reflect on how I will handle the inevitable bullying that is bound to happen as Holden progresses through childhood and adolescence.

Recently at the playground, Holden was climbing over the play equipment while a large group of much older children (say, 8-10-year olds) were playing a game of tag on the equipment.  Holden was underfoot during these activities, and at one point, a MUCH older child glanced down at Holden and muttered “Out of my way, kid.”

I was a tad taken aback when this happened, but didn’t say anything to the older kid because Holden didn’t even seem to notice what had transpired, and the kid hadn’t done anything physical to Holden, like pushing or shoving.  As I stood there thinking about all of the ways I could react to such a scenario, I started to think about how those reactions will shape Holden’s perception of other kids’ behaviors, and his relationship with those kids.  If I jump in and intervene every time, will Holden always expect that I’ll come to the rescue?  Will he ever learn on his own how to fend for himself?  Will he be labeled a “sissy” or a “wuss” for having an overbearing mother who is overprotective?  If I do nothing, will Holden feel powerless and alone?  These are not trivial questions.  Bullying exerts profound effects on children and adolescents, and it can determine the quality of one’s experience as a younger person.

Certainly, bullying is nothing new.  The media pretend that it’s a new phenomenon, although this couldn’t be further from the truth.  I think that the effects of bullying are more insipid nowadays with the wide use of social media, but certainly bullying itself is as old as the hills.  Other species do it too, except they don’t consult shrinks or pharmacotherapies to deal with it.

Interestingly, the other type of bullying I have experienced recently does not evoke as many difficult questions and is therefore substantially easier to deal with.  Today while at the library, Holden got ahead of me and started running down one of the aisles.  I was trying to reprimand him for running in my most discreet library-appropriate speaking tone, and as we pass the information desk, one of the librarians yells at Holden to stop running.  While I understand it’s her job to keep order in the library, I wanted to turn around and smack her.  Had I just let him run without re-directing his behavior, I would understand her need to say something.  But for her to yell over top of me pissed me off—-I felt like *I* was being bullied—or at a minimum, that she was passive-aggressively commenting on my inability to control my barely two-year old child.

I managed to grab Holden at the far corner of the library, who thought that the chase through the library and my ensuing anger were HILARIOUS.  I got on his level and explained that running is not allowed in the library (as I have many, many times before).  I told him we wouldn’t be returning to the library if he ran again.  Then we left, and I shot the librarian a dirty look.  I fumed in my car on the way home, and I thought some more about how I should react, when (not if) this happens again.  It made me sufficiently angry, that I think I will have to say something to the pseudo-disciplinarian.  I think I am within my rights to say to someone that I have the situation under control, and that their interference undermines (rather than reinforces) my authority in such situations.  I know in my gut that confronting someone on this will only provoke more hostility, but maybe if Holden sees that I stand up to those surly, middle-aged women at the library, he’ll figure out how to handle the kids on the playground that mutter at him to get out of the way, all on his own.