Jolly came out of school last Friday looking very sad.
“had a good day Jolly?”
“not really, Mummy, no”.
Knowing he’s prone to these little dramatic moments I squeezed him sympathetically, but didn’t ask him to elaborate – knew the whole story would come in the fullness of an elaborate he said/she said story time.
Enter big brother No.1 stage left (well, playground left, but don’t be picky and spoil the narrative)
“hey, Jolly, you okay?” BIG squeezy (though slightly macho) cuddle.
Shocked Mumma. My boys do NOT cuddle in the playground. Ever. On pain of dismemberment does anyone attempt physical displays of affection with No.1 in public.
Eyes popping, I shepherd them out the playground and start gently probing (Gestapo fashion). Twould appear that No.1 spotted Jolly being hit by Toby P. He waded in and stopped proceedings (in his best school mediator I’m-a-professional voice, I suspect). Lunch time play comes round, and No.1 keeps an eye out for Jolly. Spots him – and Toby P has recruited help to hold the strong and fighting-back Jollyster still so he can hit him properly. No.1 forgets his School Mediator training and wades in in best big brother mode (YAY! Go No.1!), taking two Yr 6 pals with him (YAY pals!).
At first I admittedly suspected it was typical boys stuff, and that Jolly probably gave more than he got verbally before fists started flying… But asked Jolly about it a little more while he was in the bath, and it transpires this is nothing unusual – Toby P hits him or calls him names or throws things at him or whacks him most days.
When asked why he didn’t tell us, he replied ‘well, it’s just what happens, mummy”.
Mildly baffled as to why it wouldn’t, it being a normal course of events. Grrrrrowllllll.
Bloody Toby P lives within spitting distance of us, and was very tempted all weekend to go round and slap him up the side of the head.
I decided that the time was ripe for acting like a grown up, being mature and resposnibel and doing the right thing. Yes, you guessed it – a Parent/Teacher conference no less.
So I went see Mrs Pad after school Monday (his teachers job-share, she’s on duty Mon-Wed, so had no clue about Friday). Mrs Pad reacted in suitable horror and sadness, and promised it would stop.
And I believed her too, cos she’s lovely and young-ish and fiercely protective of her class.
So – not a peep from Toby P since Monday – only 7 other boys in his class of 25, so not many too choose from to play with, and I did wonder if there would be repercussions.