I love this kid. And his sister. And his dad.
I was Casey once. Until a bully in the 6th grade pushed me too far.
The result? My upper teeth driven through my lip at a drinking fountain - followed by the decimation of numerous classroom modular walls, chalkboards and desks as we rolled through nearly an entire wing of Gus Grissom Middle School.
The fight ended when I split a molded plastic school chair over his head.
He suffered a concussion and I was held in the principal's office, bloody washcloth pressed against my bleeding lip, until my father arrived.
The principal was waiting for my father's arrival to inform him that I had seriously injured another kid and that I would be subject to corporal punishment - 'swatting' - as it was called. The bastard of a principal had a fiberglass paddle with holes drilled into it for maximum sting (circa 1974).
Proudest moment of my life re: my father?
Dad arrived - all 400 lbs of angry, repressed, high blood pressure rage. He asked me what happened and assessed the situation.
He turned to the principal and informed him:
"My kid was defending himself. You can paddle him all you want - but you're going to have to take me down first."
The paddling never came.
From that day forward, I knew I had backup. And when you back down just one bully, other bullies take notice.
Be there - for your kids, your nephews and nieces, or your friend's kids - any kid, for Pete's sake. All they need to know is that someone cares about them and who they are.