So Big Child's fifth-grade class has a group blog.
I KNOW! What the hell, right? Actually I was wild about the idea at first; sneering left and right at other parents who were having a harder time with their babies embracing the brave new world of social media in the classroom.
That stage lasted all of ten minutes. Which is how long it took my kid to join his classmates in collaborating on a fan-page for their teacher. They were each posting their favorite things about her, and I was still loving it at that point, because awwwww and YAAAAY, but then Big Child asked me how to spell "emotional" and I started to worry. A few minutes later, he brought his laptop into my room to confirm my worst fears.
"How does this sound, Mommy," asked my kid who has recently hit five feet and is starting to get blackheads (WTF? Noooo), "My favorite thing about Mrs. Teacher is that she does not yell at her students and says she never will because she does not like to be yelled at. I especially don't like when adults yell* because I hate yelling and also I am very emotional and start to tear up any time someone yells at me or even just around me."
Uhhh...crap. This is where Big Child's developmental delay makes him a prime target for schoolyard bullies. I go back and forth a lot on whether to try and help him avoid catching grief for his unselfconscious naivete or whether that's something he just has to learn to do on his own, but in the end I'm his mother and I just don't want anyone to hurt my baby.
"Well, son, here's the thing about revealing stuff about yourself on the innernet," I began, trying to choose my words with care--
"THE INTERNET IS FOREVER, I KNOW," he said, wearily.
"Yes, yes it is. But more than that, the innernet is accessable to everyone, whether they like you or not, and therefore you want to be careful what you put out there. Because anything you write that someone could use to hurt or embarrass you CAN AND WILL come back to bite you in the butt."
"What do you mean?"
I sighed. "I think you could maybe just say that you hate yelling and leave it at that."
"Because...well, kids are horrible, and our ER copayment is a lot of money--"
"I just don't want to see you get hurt, your feelings OR your face! It's up to you what you write on there, but...just think about it, okay?"
Then Hotter totally undermined my parenting by telling the kid to write what he felt, because he had a lot more respect for someone who came right out and said what they believed, and anyone who had a problem with that wasn't a good friend anyway, and Big Child was all "thanks Hotter, I really needed to hear that" and they man-hugged and Big Child went to bed.
"THANKS A LOT," I told my idiot husband, after we finished making the rounds tucking everyone in and kissing foreheads. "They're going to KILL HIM, you know."
"Nah. They're FIFTH-GRADERS. He's a BLEEDER. They'll panic when they see the blood and stop punching him," Hotter said smugly, like he had it all worked out.
Godiva help us all next year when the kid goes to middle school. I might as well enroll him in Aflac now.
* My house is a no-yelling zone because I happen to hate yelling too. But the XY is a yeller...