It was to be an evening at Monkey Business, the giant indoor playground where kids run wild, seemingly unsupervised and left to their own devices. Kids will be kids and playground etiquette should be learned, yes; but Trev and I never leave Iris on her own in such situations. I'm a mom unafraid to tell off any little bully rough-housing my baby.
But, apparently, I don't need to hover.
Because while she was cooking dinner in a playhouse, she leaned out the window to take her Daddy's order, and a little whippersnapper (you know what word I really wanted to use there) ran by and purposefully slammed the window shutters on her pretty little fingers. He yelled something mean at her and ran away. The look on her face--one of confusion and maybe a little pain, but mostly just shock and disappointment--nearly broke her father's heart. And he ran to her side, eyes following that boy to make sure he was properly reprimanded by some parent, somewhere.
Iris shook it off and went back to minding her own business. And then the boy came back. He stood in the doorway, eyeing Iris, clearly checking to ensure his bullying had put her in her place.
He was sorely disappointed.
Determination in her eyes, Iris marched over to the boy, grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him into the house, placed his fingers in the oven door, and slammed it shut. Then she stared him down, straight in the eye, steadied for retaliation. It was an eye-for-an-eye (yes, finger-for-finger) sort of justice.
Trevor hesitated just a moment before stepping in, teaching Iris that she shouldn't do that to other kids. But he did it with a smirk on his face and perhaps a hint of pride in his voice.
Turns out, little Bean can take care of herself.