We were eating dinner the other night and I asked Kelly how her day at Kindergarten was and if she played with her friends. I asked who her friends are, she told me Autumn (like the season) was her friend. I asked who else, she said, "Nobody. They think I'm weird."

My stomach sunk. I stammered, "What, uh, do you mean?...do you mean weird like you're funny?"

"No, like they're always looking at me and staring at me and then they say I'm weird"

"Who says you're weird" (thinking...name names...name names!)

She says "Everyone."

My husband, oblivious to the mini-drama (because guys don't think it's bad to be called weird) is still happily shoveling dinner into his mouth.

I'm now finished eating because I can no longer stomach food and I'm convinced that -- on only the 2nd week of her entire school career -- my kid has been branded a social misfit. I'm thinking...did I dress her funny, is it cause she's lost her front teeth already, is it my fault for waiting a year to send her to K (see how I make it all about me?). I was taking it much harder than Kelly, but trying desperately not to let it show.

Later on, we went for a walk and I asked her more about the "weirdness."

Turns out they said she was weird because she doesn't like jelly on her peanut butter sandwich at lunch. I had, of course, made a mountain out of a molehill (in my head).

She doesn't like jelly and one kid probably pointed it out & they all stared & someone called her weird. So what? It wasn't some giant plot by her little classmates to ostracize my baby (as I had conjured up in my head).

Wheew. Crisis averted.

One thing is clear from this little "scare" though -- the social aspect of school -- particularly girl cliques may end up being as hard for me as my daughters. I have visions of Jr. High dancing in my head and I will never forget how vicious girls can be. Though I was never a major target (I made fast friends with the girls everyone else was afraid of and that afforded me protection), I was witness to it. And, I still feel bad that I was involved (even if I didn't do anything but stand by).

I barely made it out alive the first time. I'm not looking forward to going through it again.

I just never thought it would all start this early.

I know my responsibility is not to worry about it happening, but to arm my daughter with the tools she needs to deal with it. I know that love is the biggest tool I can give her, but I'm sure there are other things I can do to shore up her foundation so she can weather the social storms.

Heck, maybe I'll even convince myself in the process.