The sidewalk chalk incident (Or, it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to)

Sigh..where do I start? I live in a complex at the edge of a small town. All the kids here gather in front of my place to play because it's next to the dead end street sign and the woods. There are a LOT of kids here, all colors, shapes and sizes. They are mostly really good kids. They all play together from ages 2 to 12 and the bigger kids watch out for the little ones and no one is mean. Yesterday the big boys had a stickball game going on the dead end, out front. I'm not sure of the rules of the game, it involves a ball, it can be a basketball, volleyball, whatever..and everyone has a found stick. They never hit each other, just the ball and the worst that happens is someone gets scraped up in a game skirmish or someone gets their feelings hurt and goes inside for awhile. Lissa is now going through a stage where she desperately wants to be a boy, a big boy. She's not allowed to play in the street, even though it's fairly safe, but, she does fine from the grass. They hit the ball to her sometimes and she mangles it back to them, yelling at the top of her lungs. They're nice to her even though she's little and was clearly slowing down their game.
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That part was fine, but, then we started sidewalk chalking. Y'all know what that is, I'm sure. We had two big tubs of sidewalk chalk and one by one the kids started drifting over and joining in. We had all ages covering the whole walk, it was very cute. Lissa took the opportunity to steal their ball and go over to the basketball court and play alone, ignoring them. I sat on the bench and watched her. Her game consists of throwing the ball as high as she can, yelling "I dot it!" and ducking before it smacks her on the head.
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She likes ball games, that's fine, but, she doesn't have a clue how to interact with kids her age. She's been isolated because of her medical history and because she's young. Now she's pretty much fine and dandy and needs to learn how to play with other kids. I said there were no mean kids who live here, well, there's one. Her. It pains me to say it, but, she's mouthy, bossy and talks mean to them. Really mean..angry mean.
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I can't tell them all apart, there's so many. From a distance they all look the same. The boys anyhow. The black kids all wear their hair the same and favor red hoodies with white T's. The white boys all have that white boy crew cut thing going on and jeans. I have my favorites that I DO know..Little Dude, who I've blogged about. He's going on three now, still wears the pink pick in his short 'fro and is out of diapers now. He's just too cute and definitely a follower, not a leader, but, he's a dare-devil. Then there's Michael, age seven, he's a latchkey kid, only child, hungry for attention. I worry about him around here. There's Kirsten who's six and a really bright kid and a good artist. She has a brother who never talks. Yesterday I asked Kirsten how come her brother never talks and she told me he has speech problems and is embarrassed. I told him I'd give him his own chalk if he'd talk. So he says "I Brannen, I fooo, I wikes codor buuu!" I told him there's nothing wrong with his speech, he's four, get over it. Brandon, you talk fine. He talked all afternoon. What can I say? I speak kid. Garbledeegook is normal in our house.
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Anyhow, Lis got tired of playing alone and joined in. Kirsten told her she like the monster she was drawing and all Hell broke loose. Lis yelled at them and got really mad. She said it was all her chalk and they could stuff it up their monkey butts. She said this while she's holding THEIR ball. She said "You damn kids on my nerves, you get out my yard!" That was the nicest thing she said. It was awful. She was horrid to them.
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I ended up giving them her sidewalk chalk (tough) and took her inside for time out. She cried, sobbed, screamed, but, playtime was over for her. After time out, she got out games and puzzles and played but she kept making a big point to say "Look, Dawma, I play nice now. I nice girl." Yeah, right. I'm not buying it. That's how she ended up in time out with no ball, no chalk and no friends. We have a lot of work ahead of us this summer and I am not looking foreword to it. They all make me tired, if you want to know the truth, and I am not proud that my granddaughter is sometimes unbearably rotten. That's what happens when you hang with Dad's heavy metal band and Mom's goofy friends all winter. And mostly old grouchy Grammas who just dream of some down time. That's the way it goes, huu?
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PS..I was kinna proud that she now says monkey butts, instead of monkey ass's. That's progress.