This is a story one of my hospice clients told me.
She and her husband took in a young (around 7-8 yrs old) multi-racial boy. He was around the age of her grandchildren, so she told him he was one of her grandsons.
She found out he was being made fun of and bullied on the school bus. So the next day she escorted him to the school bus and got on with him. She faced the children and said: “hi kids (small town, they all knew her)—this is my grandson, Johnny (not real name). Will you all be friends with him and include him in your games.”
No more problems. A beautiful solution.
This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70th birthday. They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them. I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.
