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A while ago, DQ mentioned to me that a girl in her class kept asking for her food, and when she wouldn’t oblige, the little girl got mad.  It got me thinking, so I asked for some information about the girl.

I found out little tidbits here and there; a name, how many siblings she had, that I hadn’t seen her mother at the school because she refused to attend the class parties.

Some of that information awakened a little memory in the recesses of my brain.  Two years ago, a little girl from down the street played with DQ.  They were getting along great, when we invited her over to our house.  She didn’t last ten minutes in our house before rummaging through the fridge and pantry, looking for snacks.  I didn’t really have a problem with it, per se, except I talked to DQ about how one was not to do that at other’s houses because it was not polite.  One day, the child and one of her older sisters showed up at our doorstep.  The older sister explained that her mom was at her wits end and wanted to know if I could watch the girl for an hour or so.  I did, but called her mother the next day to make sure she had our phone number.  You know, in case we were not home.  I didn’t want those kids to have to walk all the way down the street just to find out we weren’t there.

We never heard from them again.

I had a random thought:  could the lunch bully be the same girl who rummaged through our pantry two years ago?  Unfortunately I said that out loud.

Today, DQ climbed in the car and said, “Guess what Mom!  That was the same girl!!”

Inwardly, I groaned.  “You didn’t talk about our pantry to her, did you?”  She nodded.  I took the bait.  “What did you say?”

“Well, actually, I just said, ‘were you the little girl who went over to another little girl’s house and ate food out of her pantry?’ and she said ‘yes’ and I said, ‘I was that other girl!’”

How tactful, DQ.

Let’s hope that little girl doesn’t repeat all of that to her mother.  Then again, we don’t speak so what do I care?