It seems I am going to have to let my six year old in on my plan for World Domination. Which is OK. Everyone needs an evil protege, right?

Anyway – it seems he’s getting bullied at school. The idea of first graders already bullying amazes me – in a “what the fuck is wrong with people today” kind of way. It’s an odd situation because it’s not just him getting bullied, and it’s not just one bully.

The first time it happened it involved a little boy who has invited my son over to play, appears to be good friends with him on most occasions and… here’s the kicker… attends CCD where I teach. Yeah. That was an easy one to fix. If you can’t trade in your hours of volunteer time to corner a kid in CCD and remind him that God is always watching – what’s the point?

But now, it’s another kid. And, it seems that there is a little “gaggle” of these kids who amuse themselves by pushing, scratching, pinching and kicking whatever other little kids will sit there and take it.

Enter, my son. Who has always been taught that violence of any kind is simply not OK. You don’t put your hands on anyone. Period. We use our words. and if that doesn’t work, you go get an adult who will – of course – handle it. Unfortunately, the adults at this school seem to follow the “work it out amongst yourselves” philosophy.

The poor bastard is a sitting duck.

So last night, I had to switch tactics. I explained to him that while we do not hit, you “never let anyone put their hands on you. Ever.” I don’t want him running around beating some kid’s ass – but I am also not going to raise a victim.

Parenting is an interesting thing. I found myself, in the most age appropriate way possible, trying to explain verbal intimidation. I felt like I was passing on some of my evil powers – and it broke my fucking heart. Besides, with great power comes great responsibility, and I’m not sure a six year old has the mental maturity to handle a handbag of evil weapons marked “for emergencies only”.

I have never been in a fight in my life. And I’ve had plenty of people who wanted to kick my ass. I usually resorted to running my mouth as fast as I could in an effort to make them cry before they could take a swing. And while that method has always served me well, I’m not relishing the idea of teaching my son the fine art of sizing up someone’s insecurities and going straight for the jugular with a well-crafted insult.

But I’ll be damned if anyone is going to push my kid around.

Unfortunately, I realized this morning that in my son’s version of the Master Plan, the Stupid People Island will likely be replaced by the Island For Annoying Little Sisters. I really need to spend more time teaching him about the pitfalls of rampant stupidity.

Proteges have to be on the same page as The Master.