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The Good Fight (Adam's Story)

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I’m eating ice cream with my five-year-old nephew. He has a bruise on his cheek and a scratch on his forehead. I’m eating ice cream with my five-year-old-nephew because he got into a fight at school. Not only that, but he won a fight at school that needed to be fought.

There is a boy in his class. This boy is short, shy and very fond of the color red. This little boy’s name is Adam. Adam has two dads. The other children found this out one day and teased him mercilessly. My nephew joined in, because he found it as weird as they did. Adam went home in tears that night.

When my nephew had asked me why, I told him. I told him that Adam loved his fathers and hurt that people made fun of him for that. I told him that the only thing a family needs is love. After that nothing matters. I told him that it’s okay to be different. We had a short conversation about this. He then pushed his way into my lap, though he is too big to be there. I held him. He was a kind-hearted boy, overly-gentle because of his bulk. My nephew is roughly the size of a eight year old. Yet, he still fit easily into my arms when he apologizes for being mean. I forgave him. What else was I supposed to do?

Today, I got a call saying that my nephew had been in a fight. I was with his mother when she picked him up. The first thing she did was scream at him. I don’t think she saw the tear falling down his face, but I did. She tugged him into the car and they speed home. I was left to baby-sit. My nephew was to clean his room and have no dessert that night.

“Are you alright?” I asked. He nodded, but did not look up. I carefully cleaned his cut and washed the dirt and tear stains from his face. This seemed to make him feel better.

“Who did you fight?” I asked. He scuffed his shoe against the carpet.

“Mitchell.” He answered quietly. Mitchell is a boy in my nephew’s class. I have met him once.

“Why?” I asked. This time, he stared up at me, a flash of defiance in his eyes.

“It’s okay to be different.” He said, “Adam is different.”

With a little prodding, I come to find that Mitchell was teasing Adam as he and My Nephew played. My nephew, in his tender way, asked him to stop. Mitchell did not and shove him down. My nephew shove back and gave Mitchell a black eye and bloody nose. Then the teacher had called.

I wrapped my nephew in a hug and assured him that he has done the right thing. I told him that I’m proud of him and that Adam is thankful. He hugged me back and thanks me. So, I took him out for ice cream. He deserved it.

He fought the good fight and, for now, he has won.





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