Gang signs are innate! And a victim.

Tonight at dinner Ryan and I continued to sit in amazement every time B threw his gang sign. Recall that this is the infamous pose he uses to express "yummer!" during a meal. It would be cool if I could say I taught him sign language. It would even be cool if we could just determine where he learned this pose. We are stumped, so we must conclude that gang signs are innate physical expressions. (Trust me, this looks exactly like a gang sign!)

In other news, today was our first day at the Wednesday session of Gymboree. (Our other level four classes have been make-up sessions on Thursdays and Saturdays.) While we were mostly surrounded by other Gymboree friends that moved up with us and a few playgroup friends we hadn't seen in a while, we also found ourselves among a very violent (angry?) twenty-two-month-old. This child who sported a very odd name that I cannot recall should be moved up into the next level. He does not fit in with the other tots. More importantly, he should not be around my child, or I might drop-kick him. Here's why...

While Benjamin was playing at the activity table prior to the start of class, this aforementioned bully walked up to B and hit him right on the head. His mother quickly, if not weakly, scolded him. I was sure this was the end of the issue. Not five minutes later, when his mother was God-knows-where, he turned around and hit B on the head AGAIN! I rushed over, told him that we don't hit, and whisked B away from the danger. Maybe it was more of an effort to whisk MYSELF away from the imminent legal danger imposed by my inclination to beat that child. When class began, we tried to stay away from Trouble. Unfortunately, Trouble found us. The third time he hit B, his mother was, again, inattentive. The fourth and final time Trouble accosted my baby, she scolded him.

I was conflicted. I am not confrontational, at least not when it becomes a personal issue. Neither will I allow my child to be beaten by a peer. While I tended to like Mom-o-Trouble, my gut feeling was that she had been abused in some capacity. She seemed meek and weathered. What to do, what to do... Someday I'll find my voice. Haha! (Actually, I'm pretty vocal, so perhaps it was just the shock of it all. Perhaps it was my will not to say what was actually on my mind.)

Next Wednesday I'm putting my foot down! You stay tuned!