And this? Is why I don't like other people's kids.

Okay, that's not entirely true. There are some kids who are totally wonderful. My daughter has a wonderful friend named Katelyn who doesn't have a mean bone in her entire body. And I wish all little kids were like that.

Bean has a "friend". Devon. Well, had a "friend" Devon. Devon lives two doors down, and she's the only kid on the street Bean's age, so by default, they were "friends".

Devon and Bean argue pretty much every time they play together. Oddly enough, they're always playing over at our house. Devon has this habit of completely trashing Bean's room, and Bean quickly realized that even though someone else destroyed her room, she was responsible for putting it back together. I won't help.

Devon also invites herself to dinner. And to spend the night. Only she tells Bean to come ask me. The answer has been no every time. (By the way, am I the only person in this God forsaken world who was raised not to invite themselves over for dinner or to spend the night?)

Well, Saturday, I was taking Bean to the park. I was getting ready when Devon rang the doorbell. Bean told her she couldn't play, but I told her to run over and invite her to come to the park with us if she wanted to come along. Half an hour later, I went over with Bean, exchanged cell phone numbers with Devon's mom, and we went to the park. It ended up being too crowded, so we went to a marsh wildlife preserve deal right by the park instead.

The whole time, there was no arguing. It was great. We walked around the marsh, visited the nature center. It was over an hour of blissful getting along. On the way home, I told Devon she could go home and ask her mom if she could play for a while, and then come over. I was feeling generous.

She did come over, and after about 20 minutes, the arguing started. I went in Bean's room once to tell them to quit, and eventually I just got sick of it and told them to start straightening up because it was time for Devon to go home.

Five minutes later, I snuck up to Bean's room because I heard more arguing. I peeked in the door, and Devon was saying, "... so then I'm just going to take one of your things. I'm going to take ..." Then she saw me and stopped. I said, "It's time to leave. Right now. Bean, you can finish cleaning up after you walk Devon home." I was livid. Really livid. And desperately trying to restrain myself. I couldn't believe the nerve of this kid trying to walk out of my house with one of my kid's things.

Bean came home from walking Devon, and she was sobbing. Devon had called her stupid.

In the next five minutes, I found out Devon had done/said the following:

1. Told Bean she was stupid.
2. Called Bean a name for trying to keep her from breaking/tearing shit up.
3. Made fun of Bean because she likes to play with her parents.
4. Told Bean she has a big butt.

Then the doorbell rang. Devon had forgotten her sweater. I couldn't even look this kid in the face because I really thought I might lose it. Not physically. I'd never get physical with a child. But I was really afraid of unleashing my arsenal of hurtful words on this kid. Which is totally unreasonable. But I wasn't exactly feeling reasonable.

So she got her sweater, and when she left, I slammed the door. I slammed a door on a seven-year-old. I? Am so mature.

Yesterday, Devon came over to play like nothing had happened. No, Bean couldn't play. I wasn't letting this venomous little cleptomaniac back into my house. Especially after I found out that she'd tried (and possibly succeeded) in taking things from my home before.

I would go over and say something to her mother, but, frankly, I've been to her house, and I don't think that would make much of an impact. The house is a disaster area, and the father can't even get his lazy ass off of the couch to get the door. He just screams at other people to answer it.

I'm trying really hard not to be so angry at this kid. Because I'm an adult. And because I'm almost completely certain that her home life has a lot to do with why she is the way she is.

But Bean doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She doesn't want Devon to come over anymore, though. She agrees that a real friend doesn't upset you every time you play together. And a real friend doesn't say mean, hurtful things just to say them. I wish she would stand up for herself. But I don't stand up for myself, either, though, so I suppose she gets that from me.

I can't wait to move.