While I’m highly unlikely to engage in physical violence, there are some things that get my adrenaline up and make me aware that I could, in fact, be violent should the need arise.
This whole St Patrick’s Day pinching thing has got me all uptight today. Friends have been commenting that their kids were so afraid of being pinched at school today that they refused to wear anything that wasn’t green (better safe than sorry). Others’ kids forgot their green today but their teacher gave them a green sticker so they wouldn’t get pinched. I don’t know, but I think the response I would want from my kid’s teacher is more along the lines of, “Don’t worry. No one has a right to touch your body but you, especially not to pinch you. If someone pinches you, let me know, and I’ll punish the little bugger.”
My daughter asked what St Patrick’s Day was about. I told her I really didn’t know, but that it seemed to have something to do with Ireland and maybe snakes and that people wear green and drink a lot of beer and eat corned beef and cabbage. She decided to wear one green sock with her otherwise pink outfit. I had not told her about the pinching thing. My son and I did not wear green.
At gymnastics today, a little girl worried aloud that, because she had no green on her leotard, that she would be pinched during class. Her father said that he was pretty sure that gymnastics class is a pinch-free zone, regardless of what color you’re wearing. My daughter became apprehensive that someone would pinch her since she was wearing a pink velour leotard and matching pink velour scrunchie.
“No one has a right to touch you, Honey,” I explained. “If someone tries to pinch you, you tell them that.”
I was going to tell her to tell her coach, but I’m not 100% certain the coach wouldn’t just say, “Well, you’re not wearing green…” and then pinch my kid herself. I considered telling her to just hit anyone who pinched her, but I’m not entirely convinced that’s a precedent I want to set.
Luckily it was a moot point.
Other than the pinching thing, my kids enjoyed St Patrick’s Day, for what little we did to celebrate. Basically, I just made corned beef and cabbage, which we all loved (“Mommy, I love cabbage! And this pork is delicious! I love pigs when they’re alive and when they’re dead.” “That’s pretty cool, Honey. But just so you know, it’s beef, not pork.” “Well, I like dead and alive cows, too, live ones to look at and dead ones to eat.”).
Then I celebrated with a traditional Irish yoga class. I didn’t wear green there, either, and luckily no one pinched me. Because I would have decked them.
Erin go Braugh!