Did it leave a mark?

I bring my son home from pre-school and while I am feeding lunch, I notice a mark on his arm.
“What happened?” I ask, knowing full well I will not get an easy answer.
“Why?”
“To your arm. What happened?” And while I point out the bruise, I notice four tiny little ones behind it. There is not mistaking it: these are tiny fingerprints. Some child must have grabbed his arm, and squeezed.
 

“During gym, I pretended to be dead.”
“I don’t like it when you play dead. It creeps me out. So, what happened to your arm?”
“I wasn’t dead forever.”
“I’m glad. What happened to your arm?”
(I told you this wasn’t going to be easy)
“Someone pinched my arm.”
“Who? Someone in your class?”
“No. From a different class.”
“Did you tell someone?”
“Yes.”
“You did? Because your teacher didn’t say anything when I picked you up.”
“I told my friend.”
“And then what?”
“And then he pushed the other child away and he ran off.”

I tell him about keeping himself safe, not letting other kids bully him, and about telling a grown up when something happens. He listens, and nods vigorously: “I told you.”
“No,” I say, “I wasn’t there. I mean tell someone when it happens. And adult, grown-up person,” and he says:
“Grown-up person is not a word.”
Apparently, he is more concerned with grammar than with the bruise.

Had it been me, I would have kicked the other child in the shins. Hard. Mendel, however, is a gentler soul, and doesn’t bully back, unless he’s dealing with his sister. Would his sister have grabbed his arm like that, she wouldn’t have come away unharmed. Which, considering that his run-ins with her are much more frequent, is probably good to know.

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