metaphortunate son

I am tireless in trying to teach the Junebug public transportation etiquette. No, that's not true. I am extremely tired but nonetheless almost completely relentless in teaching the Junebug public transportation etiquette. I don't care if I've spent all day working flat out on deadlines plus Rocket is strapped to me screaming and trying to pull the Junebug's hair while the Junebug tries to go through my purse. You will nonetheless see me somehow manifesting extra arms to hold a tiny jacket, pat a baby, block him from grabbing his brother's hair, and still keep the Junebug from kicking you, all while bouncing gently and whisper-singing "The Wheels On The Bus". Because I genuinely believe in being a good bus citizen.

Unless you're lavaballing it. Then you will see me beatifically watching as the Junebug wriggles around and puts his filthy shoes - shoes which walk through seven straight blocks of soup kitchen detritus, fast food wreckage, and hobo fluids, every single day, by the way - all over your pants. He will innocently kick you for ten stops or until you move your damn leg over and I will calmly smile.

On the bus home after work tonight: me. A little boy sitting next to me. His brother sitting next to him. His sister, a little chubby with glasses, third on the bus, too late to get a seat, standing in front of them, swinging a little on the pole she was holding on to. Sister maybe 7 or 8, one brother older, one younger. Kids talking.

Sister mentions that she's good at soccer.

Older brother says "No you're not. You suck."

Sister tries to meet him halfway. "I'm sort of good. Maybe I sort of suck."

Older brother: "No, you suck."

Sister: "You know [other kid]? I got a goal off him today. I made a goal."

Older brother pauses. "He probably let you."

Older brother: "Boys like to let girls win. They just pretend like you won."

Me, leaning in: "No they don't. Boys hate it when it looks like girls beat them."

Older brother: "Oh yeah….that's true."

Me: [trying not to look too smug]

Kids: silent for a few minutes, while I pull out my phone and ostentatiously perform Not Listening To Your Conversation Anymore, Please Go About Your Business.

Sister: smiling a little.

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Mr. E says I used sexism against sexism. Like judo or something? Or just another ultimately self-defeating master's tool?