alphabet wars

This past week I was made aware of a troubling incident. My youngest, the Anarchist, had been involved in an alphabet-related physical altercation at preschool. In short, she had been in a fight over the letter "C." Previously, my associations with the letter "C" had been benign, even light-hearted--"C is for COOKIE, that's good enough for me," and the like. I had been ignorant to the very real threat of violence surrounding this letter and the life lessons my daughter would take from it. This is how I came to discover that something had been amiss:

(We're in the Anarchist's preschool classroom, hanging her coat on a miniature hook. I turn around and am face to face with a sullen three-year-old boy. He is clutching an elaborate drawing featuring a very troubled-looking stick person.)

Me: Hi.

Sullen Boy's Mother: Sullen Boy, give it to the Anarchist. Give her your drawing. Right now.

Random Shrieking Preschooler with Separation Anxiety: AHHH!! (lunges towards the door, throwing herself around her father's legs in a very dramatic fashion)

The Anarchist (utterly distracted by the shrieking girl): Oh NO! Poor, poor Shrieking Girl! She wants her Mommy!

Me: Anarchist, Sullen Boy is trying to give you something. (grabs the Anarchist's chin in a vain attempt to turn her head and notice Sullen Boy)

The Anarchist (stubbornly refusing to turn her head): Shrieking girl is CRYING! It's okay, Shrieking Girl!

Sullen Boy's Mother: Sullen Boy, give it to her RIGHT NOW.
(Sullen Boy silently thrusts his elaborate drawing in the Anarchist's general direction)

Me: Anarchist! Anarchist! Focus! Sullen Boy is trying to give you a pretty drawing!

Sullen Boy's Mother (very sternly): And what do you tell the Anarchist, Sullen Boy?

Sullen Boy: (mumbled) Sorry.

Me: Anarchist, say "thank you."

The Anarchist (confused by the whole scenario and looking longingly toward the nametag table where her cherished nametag awaits): Thank you.

(I mouth "for what?" to Sullen Boy's Mother, and her response startles me)
Sullen Boy's Mother: Oh, you didn't hear?

(I shake my head, bewildered)

Sullen Boy's Mother (with a gravity I hadn't realized was warranted by an alphabetical altercation): Apparently, last week they were in a fight over the letter "C." (dramatic pause) And Sullen Boy hit the Anarchist in the head.

This is the point at which I started laughing. I'm sorry, but a fight over the letter "C" just sounds like hilarity itself. Apparently, I was naive to be so amused, because Sullen Boy's mother was aghast at my inability to see how serious the situation truly was. Oops. I composed myself, led the Anarchist to her precious nametag, and was off, all the time wondering why I hadn't heard of this situation sooner. Clearly, the Anarchist must have instigated the whole thing, probably deserved being hit on the head, had retaliated (as is her way), and wasn't talking because she didn't want to let me know she had been in trouble at preschool. It was at this point that I remembered something significant: the Gourd Friends.

The Gourd Friends are the Anarchist's favorite toy. She took a fancy to a basket of decorative seasonal gourds, named each one after a member of her preschool class, and spends countless hours reenacting preschool scenarios with these Gourd Friends. You would think the poor kid was deprived of real toys, the way she adores these things.

Anyway, all weekend long the gourd friends had been reenacting one particular scenario. Sullen Boy--played by a green, bumpy gourd--had been labeled "the really nice boy who hits everybody." Sullen Boy Gourd went around knocking all the other gourds down. And then the upended gourds would laugh uproariously and the whole thing would begin again. I had taken it for granted that she was reenacting a silly game her friends had played. It had never crossed my mind to think anything more of it. After all, she was laughing. It was funny, right?

The Anarchist's teacher brought it up when I came to pick her up from preschool today:

Teacher: Well, Sullen Boy and the Anarchist have been glued at the hip, today.

Me: I hadn't even realized there had been any problems between them, until Sullen Boy's Mom said something today.

Teacher (in a tone suggesting that this was just common knowledge): Oh yes. Sullen Boy and the Anarchist were having words about the letter "C" and Sullen Boy hit the Anarchist in the head.

Me: Oh no! Did the Anarchist instigate it? She did, didn't she?

Teacher (surprised, because apparently the Anarchist is a little angel at preschool): Not at all. They were just having a heated discussion. When he hit her--it wasn't hard enough to make her cry--she just looked stunned. Then she turned around and walked away. But I had to use my crabby voice. It was a big deal. All of the preschoolers were startled.

And this is the part I find most surprising of all. The Anarchist walked away?! From a fight?! This can NOT be my child! Of course, her chosen method of retaliation is hair-pulling, and Sullen Boy has a close-cropped haircut. So maybe she was just completely at a loss of how to deal with the situation in the absence of long hair?

Or maybe she, like her mother, finds the whole situation laughable. After all, the gourds laughed about it all weekend. Because, let's be honest here, how can you NOT laugh at a fight over the letter "C?"