"I never knew I could literally hate a 6-year-old so much before my little cousin. I lived with my aunt for a while and she had some of her kids and my cousin's kid there, and then another cousin's kid staying over for two weeks (it was a 6-bedroom house). I never knew a 6-year-old could be such a jerk. The kid, we'll call him Shane, would regularly feign interest in a toy he had no interest in just to get his younger 3-year-old cousin to want it, only to play keep-away and laugh when she cried. He said he liked hearing her be sad.
Sometimes he would give it to her if it was a toy that wasn't safe for her to handle, like his mom's tablet or toys that were way too heavy, and she'd drop them on her foot or break them. When it graduated to him playing with knives, pepper spray, and other objects he shouldn't even have, my aunt stepped in and isolated him from her.
One day, my aunt and her kids all had to leave for different errands, so I had to care for the three-year-old and Shane. It was 115 degrees outside, so I had central air on and all the doors and windows shut. The front door was locked. The 3-year-old was happily playing with some toy cars on the living room floor and watching Adventure Time, but Shane wanted to go outside. 'No, it's way too hot, you'll get sick.'
He called me a nasty name and started making a bunch of fat jokes, so I put him in timeout in his grandmother's room (the most baby-proof room in the house). Shane found the front door key from his grandma's room, and when I was busy in the kitchen cooking lunch, he unlocked the door and ran outside. I took everything off the stove and chased him, and he had me running after him in 115 degree heat on burning pavement.
The little dude was fast and since he was so small, I couldn't grab ahold of him easy. He eventually started throwing the outdoor toys at me and calling me all sorts of names like 'fattie' and 'rhymes-with-witch.' A 6-year-old. I went inside and closed the front door (without locking it), and the front yard was gated and locked with only one key that his grandmother had.
Suddenly he didn't want to play anymore, came inside, and started hitting me as hard as he could with the keys he'd taken, which cut me. I was at a loss as to what the heck to do at that point because I'd never been cut by a 6-year-old before, so I called his grandmother, my aunt, crying. She came home and gave him a royal dressing-down, spanked him, and put him in her room and locked the door. I'd never so badly wanted to smack a 6-year-old.
Later in his stay, he pointed a knife at the 3-year-old (which was in a cupboard way out of his reach, so no idea how he got the darn thing) because he wanted to take her toys home with him. He hit many members of the house a lot more with other stuff, like me with a toy sword that left a welt. He also locked the 3-year-old in the toy chest, in the dryer (and asked someone to turn it on), tried to push her into the oven space, in the sweltering garage, and locked her outside on another 115 degree day (she was never there for too long, a minute at most).
In retrospect, his violence and disrespect at six years old were symptomatic of his home life, but at the time, I was depressed and suicidal and could barely feed myself, let alone recognize the symptoms of abuse in a 6-year-old. His dad got custody, which was the not-crazy one...my cousins are all insane and addicts in some way or another. We never hear from them, but I hope that kid got some help."
"As a server, it's known that children are not particularly fun to have at one of your tables. It happens though, and I've learned to interact with just the parents if the kids are really young (under ten years old). This maneuver became necessary after one incident.
It was two grandparents and two elementary school kids. They ordered a large pizza to share and a round of water and lemonades for the kids. As soon as the younger kid heard he was 'just getting lemonade,' he stood up in the booth and yelled at his grandma, 'I WANTED MOUNTAIN DEW!'
That's where I especially only make eye contact with the adults. Highly caffeinated drinks are usually a big no-no for kids from my experience. She told him no and that he had a soda earlier. Now I don't want to sound super judgmental, but this kid was significantly fatter than his sibling. The older one was quite pleasant, and even said please and thank you. I felt bad for the young one, like he wasn't the 'favorite child.'
He was continuously talking over the grandparents and yelling/spitting on me. It happens...unfortunately. Then this fat kid SLAPPED his grandma across the face. Like, loud enough for other tables to turn their heads. Then he DEMANDED that Mountain Dew. I still can't believe they told me to get them a soda. They used to be regulars, but I never saw them again after that."
"One time we were having a get together to celebrate my husband's home country's national day. We made food from his home country, including a limited amount of his country's 'national cookie.' We told everyone that we only had enough of these for each guest to get one, and we gathered all the kids together and told them the same thing. Then, we put these special cookies up on a higher shelf so the little ones wouldn't be tempted.
There were plenty of other cookies, candies, and cakes available. Then one 12-year-old kid climbed on a barstool, took down the plate of special biscuits, and ate every single one. He took the plate into another room. He literally took a bite of each one, placed it back on the plate, and picked up another one, took a bite, etc until all of them had a bite taken out. Then he proceeded to eat them all.
One of the younger kids came into the main room and told us. When we found him, there were three left, each with a bite taken out. I asked him, 'Those were for everyone, why did you eat them all?'
He stuffed another one into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and replied, 'The food sucks. This is the only thing I can eat.' Someone else asked him why he had bitten into them all. He replied, 'If I bite it, it's mine. I didn't want the other kids to have them.'
I took the plate away and he started yelling at me about how I was unfair, and that he was going to tell his dad. He ran off, and a few minutes later his dad came storming in, insisting that we let his son eat a cookie. 'That's all he wants is one cookie! It's not fair to take them away! It's not like anyone else can eat them, anyway!'
I threw them in the trash and said, 'Nope, that's enough.' He complained about how we should have had enough for everyone, and so we never invited him to one of our parties again.
"This middle school girl who was visiting the high school I was at pushed down a pregnant teacher who tried to stop a fight she got in with someone else, and then went to kick her in the belly. I didn't punch her, but I nearly broke her leg and arm after I dove in the way, taking her foot right to the balls. Instead, I opted to just take her to the ground, flip her on her stomach, put her in an armbar, and pin her down until security escorted her away.
I was a senior at the time and could have gotten in trouble on account of being over 18 and using force on a minor, but I had never been in a fight, had plenty of witnesses, and ample cause, so when she tried to get me expelled and her mother tried to say I went too far, the school board told the mother and daughter off so quickly that they didn't even finish their sentences. I later heard she thought she'd still be accepted by the high school the next year. She was not and ended up only being accepted by the school for problem children."
"He was a 'troubled' nephew of an acquaintance of my wife. I would run into him when I accompanied my wife to some of her community extracurriculars and I would try to be the 'big brother' type; treat him like an adult, laugh at his jokes, listen to his stories, and be a positive role model without coming off as overbearing or preachy.
It went well for the most part, but there were times when he'd cross the line and I'd just respond with, 'I don't want to talk about that,' or 'It makes me uncomfortable to think about those things,' or 'I don't think that is how you should talk to adults.'
One day, I was trying to redirect some of his behavior when he just kinda turned to me and said, 'The way you talk makes me think you're a real wuss. What would you do if I just punched you in the face? Dare me to do it. Dare me. I bet I could beat you up. Dare me. I'm gonna kick your freakin butt.' Now I'm about 5'10", 200-225 pounds depending on the month and my diet. I'm no protein-golem, but I lift weights and am naturally broad-shouldered and barrel-chested.
I stood and squared up to him; he was probably 14 or 15 but skinny, like he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. I just kinda looked at him and said, 'I think that would be a bad idea. I want you to sit somewhere else for a while. I don't like how you've spoken to me right now.' He stood up and for a second I thought he was really gonna swing on me, but then he started crying and left. I talked to his uncle afterward and I think they had a talk about it.
When I was a teenager, I had a few bullies, kids who basically said the same stuff to me when I was a skinny, sickly little crap, and something in what he said triggered me to the point where a little voice inside of me said, 'This is your chance to pay them all back,' and that voice made me even more angry, mostly at myself that it was still there. I nearly rage-punched this kid on autopilot, which...is not okay. I know he was probably just parroting what his bullies were saying, maybe trying it on for size to see how people would react. I'm not happy that he had so much hurt (blame his deadbeat parents or whoever, I guess), but someone needed to set some boundaries for the kid. I hope he was able to grow out of that pain."
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"I went to a friend's birthday party a couple of years back and his cousin's kid was there. The kid was 8 or 9, ie old enough to know better, and he was running around and hitting the men at the party in the dongs. His parents were basically just laughing it off, giving the old 'kids being kids' excuse. My buddy was ticked, but he didn't want to make a scene, just enjoy his birthday.
I resigned myself to avoiding the kid the whole time, and I did for the most part. I reckon he knew this though, and after I went inside to get a drink and was walking back out, this kid jumped from behind a bin and punched me square in the dong.
Keep in mind, this wasn't a little kid punch. This was a 9-year-old, maliciously thrown punch. I buckled instantly, went down to my knees, and basically propped myself up on the kid's shoulder. I think he realized he'd messed up, as I stared him in the eye and tightened my grip on his shoulder, and he ran and hid behind his mum.
He didn't dong punch anyone for the rest of the party. If he hadn't run away though, I think I would've at the very least slapped the kid. I definitely saw red and my friend had to stop me from going up and shouting at his cousin for being a crappy parent."
"There was a bully at school who kept threatening my 13-year-old son. My son had told me about it on multiple occasions, and he kept threatening to come to the house and beat him up.
One afternoon, I was out working on the yard and an unfamiliar kid came over looking for my son. I said I'd go get him and I asked his name. He told me the name of another friend of his I knew, so it obviously wasn't his name. I was confused and went to ask my son, who looked out the window and identified the kid as his bully.
For a little background, the bully was a year older than my son, so 14 years old. He was pretty tall for his age, maybe 5'9" and a little built for a kid, but still not intimidating to adult me, and of course I would never fight a 14-year-old anyway.
I went outside and nicely said, 'No, he's busy. He can't come out and play with you (bully name).'
The bully responded, 'Why the heck not?' At that point, I was really ticked off. He had been making my son's life miserable for weeks, came to my house to fight him, and then cussed at me.
I regret this, but I said, 'Because you are a little wussy punk (bully's name) and you need to leave (son's name) alone.'
I kid you not, the kid took off his shirt and started walking back and forth aggressively in the street. 'You can't call me a punk, you're a punk, come get some!' and the like. I told him to go home (again, not going to fight a 14-year-old) but he kept on. Finally, I walked down to the curb and told him if he really wanted to fight, he should come up and hit me where my video camera can catch it because if I was going to hit back, I'd like it on film. Eventually, he left. I really don't need to be hitting kids...but man I wanted to for just a second."
"I basically wouldn't stop my neighbor kids from running out into traffic at this point. There's a gang of about six kids ranging between the ages of 7 and 11. Some are related, all are crapheads. In our apartment complex, they have successfully destroyed the volleyball net by climbing on it, left their toys/bikes/scooters all over the place, busted out my neighbor's window throwing rocks at it, thrown rocks at me, and they choose to skateboard and do tricks on my porch.
One time, they broke into my neighbor's apartment at night and all went berserk running around, screaming, and wrecking stuff. They're also always singing profane songs outside my window (who doesn't wanna hear a 10-year-old singing about dirty stuff while trying to enjoy a quiet moment with a book). They're constantly just SCREAMING for no apparent reason, always trying to hurt wild animals, always leaving trash and stuff everywhere, and generally just need to be beaten in every way society says is unacceptable. I seriously hate these kids. The only problem is, their parents hate them more which is why they get sassy when I try to confront them about their kids' bullcrap. I'm legit shooting them with paintballs when I move out soon, and I honestly don't give a heck how anyone feels about it except the kids. I hope it hurts."
"We had just moved for the first time in my daughter's life, and she was scared to make friends (she was around 10 years old). She finally made a friend in the neighborhood and they were doing great, and then some older kids came around. The new friend would rather be friends with the big kids because it made her look cooler. My daughter told me that the friend was picking on her, so I told her appropriate things to say, like how to walk away and take the high road, etc.
Then one day we were leaving the house and I was with my girl. This kid was across the street with some older kids and started chanting, '(My kid) is ugly. She's so stupid!' and I was right there, standing next to my crying kid.
I have never felt my blood boil so intensely. I screamed, 'EXCUSE ME, how dare you?! I know your mama! I know where you live!' The older kids ran, the girl hid, and I marched myself to her mother's house and knocked on the door, but no one answered. It took me several attempts over the day to reach an adult in the house, and they didn't seem to care that much. I have never wanted to hurt a child more than that moment.
The kids ended up getting bolder when their folks didn't do anything and would come into our yard and bang on her bedroom window. We called the cops several times and pointed out each little monster's house. Eventually, we just moved. She's thriving now, but I still wish I could have beaten the crap out of that girl across the street."
"A friend asked me to babysit her 4-year-old son last year, and I said sure because I needed the money and my son needed a playmate some of the time. In the beginning, it was set up to be about three days a week, and the first few weeks were okay but then it was just a down hill slide. He really had no manners and did not understand the word 'No,' or phrases like 'I'm doing something important. Give me a minute.'
He started with hitting and kicking my son in the face. We would place him in time out and it would be over with for that day. Then it progressed to him hitting our pets in the face or kicking them. He started latching onto my me, my son, or my husband and just pinching and yelling when he didn't get something he wanted at that moment. His mom said to take away his cell phone he played games on. It worked once or twice, and when he could behave, we returned the phone.
Once taking the phone away stopped working, the kid would throw himself at walls, then lay down and scream until he was purple. He would latch on to you with fingernails or grab a handful of hair as we tried to place him on the couch for a time-out. The word 'no' sent him flailing, kicking, screaming, clawing, and screeching. I told his mom several times that I just did not know if we could handle his behavior. She said we just needed to be consistent.
After a few months, he was REALLY testing us. Then one afternoon, his mom dropped him off and from the very second he got inside and she was gone, he started jumping on all of the furniture while kicking and screaming. I dealt with it for a few hours and he wouldn't eat or drink. I somehow get him to the bus stop a block away to pick my son up after school and hoped that now that they could play together, the one that isn't mine would chill.
I prayed for one second of peace. He started pinching and clawing. I removed him from my son's room and tried to get him to watch TV in the living room. He had a full-on meltdown. My son started locking his door when this boy would meltdown because he would go full on assault mode on all of us, and he is TINY but amazingly strong and fast.
By the time my husband was home, I'd been dealing with him for six hours. It had reached a boiling point. My husband brought Happy Meals for the boys, and we hoped sitting down for dinner would calm everything down. A mismatched HappyMeal toy set him off. He swiped everyone's drinks from the table and picked my husband's smartphone up and tossed it at the tile floor, completely breaking it. We were stunned.
It was barely a blink of time and it all happened fast. My husband's phone was totally wrecked. At that point, we had to call his mom to get him; we could no longer handle this cretin. We'd even offered to get him the Happy Meal toy he wanted, but it did not stop the rage built up in this tiny boy. We explained that his mom was coming to get him and he lost it. He spun on us and said, 'I SAID NO YOU STUPID IDIOTS!' and bolted for the front door, latching onto it.
He was screaming and kicking, and we were just trying to keep him from running into the road or something. That continued for two hours until his mom finally arrived to get him. She barely said, 'I'm sorry' or anything. Then she just didn't show up with him the next day."
"I was on a redeye to Chicago for a one-day work trip and there was a 5/6-year-old who started screaming immediately after the plane took off. Not crying, screaming. His parents picked him up and tried to hush him, but no, he continued screening like someone had lit him on fire.
A fellow mom went over and tried to calm him with some gummies from her kid's backpack, which screaming child immediately slapped out of her hand. His parents put him down and he stopped screaming and started laughing and running down the center aisle. The flight attendants told his parents, 'Hey, your kid cannot be sprinting up and down the plane.' Then he proceeded to scream again as they buckled him up.
This went back and forth for about an hour. It kept every single person on the plane up for all five hours because of his antics. You could tell his parents let him do what he wanted at home because them telling him to sit during the flight didn't fly with him. Needless to say, it was a terrible trip to Chicago as I could barely stay awake during my meetings."