Britney Spears, flying backpacks, and a teaching moment.

It looks like my six year old is taking after his father... letting his mouth get him into trouble.

Friday, Ryan came home with his big brother, crying. He runs upstairs to his room. We asked his older brother Jason what was wrong. Jason told us that he got into a fight.

A fight?!

We've worked hard to teach our kids that problems are usually NEVER solved with violence.

So I go upstairs, and had to use a dime to unlock his door. I enter the room to a weeping six year old sitting in the corner. I kneel down next to him and ask him why he's crying. It was immediately clear that he didn't really want to share all the details of his ordeal.

Ryan, did you get into a fight?

Through snot and tears, he manages a weak "ya..."

I wipe a couple tears aside, and leave the other stuff alone.

What happened?

"I don't want to say."

Did you start the fight?

"sorta"

What happened?

"I don't want to say, Dad!"

At that point Ryan crawls under his bed hoping it will suck him into some different fantasy world where there aren't parents around to ask probing questions.

I lie down on the floor next to the bed and pull up his bedspread. Both our heads are lying flat on the carpet and I say, "Ryan, I'm not leaving. You need to tell me what happened."

"Fine!," he concedes.

I ask him why he started a fight. In his own little Ryan way he says. "Dad, ok, dad.. ok here's what happened. I was standing next to Dalton by the playground and I said something to him."

"Ryan, what did you say to Dalton?"

"I called him Britney Spears." At this confession, a slight hint of laughter escaped Ryan's mouth. Though still upset about getting beat up, he was still a little proud of himself for, and saw the humor in, calling a fellow classmate Britney Spears.

"And he didn't like it?"

"No. He just started swinging his backpack, and then there were two more kids and their backpacks...." At this point his trembling voice started to trail off.

I turned my head aside, knowing that if he saw me trying not to laugh it would upset him more.

I saw this image in my head of my little six year old, who's smaller than most of his fellow first-graders, calling one of them Britney Spears -- which apparently is a big insult these days -- and then the backpacks start flying. Ultimately Ryan fell to the ground, and the offended party apologized and everyone went home.

As I asked Ryan a couple more questions about the backpack melee, he decided that he was done talking, having regurgitated enough of his drama and promptly announced, "I have no further information for you at this time."

With great effort I hold off the laughter, realizing that Ryan will make an incredibly good press secretary one day if he wants to be. Feeling that he'd been through enough, I leave him alone to calm down.

A while later, he's sitting on the toilet and he wants to talk. He's blowing spit bubbles with his mouth. I had found out from his older brother that he actually told Dalton twice that he was Britney Spears, and that Ryan had been warned not to keep saying it.

I had a little talk with Ryan about when to stop teasing, and that we shouldn't call people names.

Though he continued to blow spit bubbles while he sat on the toilet, half naked, his eyes seemed to indicate that he understood. I told that with an apology, he'd have a friendship with Dalton.

(I remember how a shoving or punching match in school was often the best foundation for friendship. I never understood that, and still don't)

I'm trying to teach the lesson to my children that I have not fully learned yet: Your mouth can get you into big trouble. So keep it in check.