Just Misunderstood
(Allow Me to Introduce His Teacher)
Everyone has an opinion about Zak.
“He’s not naughty.”
“He’s just misunderstood.”
“He’s only four.”
Blah.
Blah.
BLAH.
I hear it all the time, usually from people who have not had to prise a naked child off a sink while he floods a bathroom and recruits others to join him.
So instead of debating it, let me introduce you to his nursery teacher.
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Good evening, I just wanted to make you aware that Zak made some stormy cloud choices at school today…
Stormy cloud choices.
Which I’ve learned is nursery language for absolute fucking chaos.
He started the day well. Fantastic morning. Lovely. Great. Then lunch happened… and so did whatever feral switch lives inside my child.
After lunch, Zak:
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Refused to follow instructions
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Climbed on tables
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Displayed his private parts
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Attempted to rub his bare bottom on others
I had to pause reading at that point.
Bare. Bottom. On. Others.
Excuse me.
WHAT.
But wait — it gets better.
He then began encouraging others to join him by saying “come on, let’s do…”, leading to:
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Flooding the bathroom by blocking the sink with paper towels
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Throwing wet paper towels at a teaching assistant
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Running off from staff
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Hiding under covers
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Hiding behind units
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Hiding in the library
This wasn’t a nursery afternoon.
This was a hostile takeover.
Apparently he was overstimulated after outdoor play, got wet, had lots of fun, and struggled to remain calm with different staff.
Translation:
He chose violence. In spirit. And in arse.
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t hurting others. He was just making unsafe choices.
UNSAFE CHOICES.
And this is the part where people expect me to say, “Aww bless him, he’s just misunderstood.”
No.
I love my child more than life itself — but I am not delusional. I know exactly what I’m raising.
He’s clever. He’s funny. He’s loving.
He’s also an absolute nightmare.
Both things can exist at the same time.
I’m not here to sugar-coat his dickhead behaviour or pretend I’m floating through motherhood whispering gentle affirmations while my child rubs his arse on peers. Sometimes I have to go full Military Mom. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll lose my mind.
And you know what?
That’s okay.
Parenting isn’t about pretending your kid is perfect. It’s about surviving the feral years, holding boundaries, showing up again tomorrow, and finding humour in the chaos so it doesn’t swallow you whole.
If you’ve ever opened a school email and whispered “Jesus Christ” halfway through…
If you’ve ever loved your child fiercely while acknowledging they’re absolute carnage…
If you’ve ever thought “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing”…
You’re not a bad parent.
You’re an honest one.
And honestly? I’d rather be honest than pretend everything’s fine while my four-year-old starts a rebellion with his arse out.
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