My wonderful, talented, quirky, smart, beautiful, amazing, daughter got bullied this morning.

My wonderful, talented, quirky, smart, beautiful, amazing, daughter got bullied this morning.



Due to a death in the family, I had to drop my Montana off at school this morning.  


She was so excited, and always loves to go to school. She was beside herself last night, thinking about me dropping her off.

As Mayra would say, I am Montana’s Prince Charming.

As I have done in the past, I walked her to her class prior to the bell ringing. She hung her backpack on a hook, and we walked toward the playground, which was off in the distance.

She said “Hey dad, wanna see me on the monkey bars, I can go all the way across?”

Wearing her always on cowgirl boots, tights, Rainbow Dash shirt and Rainbow Dash jacket she ran off, stumbling along the way on her fast growing, long legs.

I watched, wondering where the time had gone. She disappeared behind a tree and emerged walking away back to me with her head held low.

When she came back she had tears rolling down her face.

“What happened” I asked?

She shook her head saying, “I don’t want to tell you”

“What’s wrong honey?” she looked up with big tears in her eyes, “those girls made fun of my Rainbow Dash jacket.”

I tried to explain that what others think is not important, I even tried to walk her over and offered to stand and watch over her, which she declined.

This moment was a culmination of fears I’ve had from the time she first started interacting with other kids. She’s always done her own thing and always seemed a little bit of an outcast in-group settings. But that doesn’t matter, she is an absolutely marvelous little six year old girl, she is exactly who she is and I wouldn’t change one little thing about her.

She’s me.

I know she is destined for great things, but I fear that the actions of others may keep her from experiencing her full potential. I fear that she may choose not to participate in a function, or do something she wants for fear that she may get picked on.

Today I got to relive a bit of my childhood near that playground, and it turned my stomach to knots. I don’t blame the children; I blame the parents for their children’s behavior.

Children mimic what they see and learn at home.

One sad dad.

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