I've always attempted to teach my children to treat others the way they want to be treated and to be kind and loving to everyone they meet. If this was the only measure of my parenting skills, I would be a complete and total failure.

I've spent the last week traveling back and forth around my old stomping grounds of Birmingham and Jasper, Alabama, and I've had the opportunity to connect with several high school friends.

We arranged play dates and were so excited about letting our kids play together like we'd always imagined as little girls.

The first play date was a little rough, but Amy is one of my oldest and closest friends and she assured me her daughter needed to be around other kids to learn how to share and "toughen up." (As it turns out, this is an-oft repeated phrase when my kids come in contact with other children.)

Sadie, my 18-month-old dimpled cherub, immediately sizes up any child she meets. Anyone who is approximately her size is considered fair game and she takes what she wants from them, snatching, pulling, pushing and hitting. Anyone who towers over her gets kisses, hugs and batted eyelashes.

Sadie tortured her barely-walking playmate until even mere eye contact produced a yelp from the tormented. I attempted to discipline her with every assault but it was all to no avail; she continued to behave like she had been raised by a pack of wolves.

Several days later we had a play date with another one of my close friends, Kasey, and her two kids, Mary Mack and John. Mary Mack and my oldest daughter are close to the same age, as are Sadie and John, so it seemed like the perfect play date. Turns out it was a recipe for the perfect storm.

Kasey used the phrases "toughen up" and "shake it off" multiple times in the first 10 minutes. Sadie pushed John, took his toys and was behaving like the stereotypical playground bully, while Aubrey and Mary Mack played nicely in another room.

I was consoling myself with thoughts of how Sadie isn't really developmentally capable of understanding the concept of sharing yet, when shrieking, screaming and the thundering of little feet erupted from the next room.

Mary Mack and Aubrey burst into the room in full little girl meltdown mode. They were sobbing and pointing at each other: "She's being mean to me!"

"No, I'm not!"

They were so hysterical I had to take Aubrey out of the room just to try to figure out what the heck had happened.

"Momma, she wouldn't listen to me and I was trying to tell her…and she was back-talking me and getting sassy!" Aubrey hiccupped and shuddered.

"Aubrey, you are not Mary Mack's mother," I explained.

"You have to be nice to her, and it's not back talk if two kids are talking to each other. That's only when a kid is talking back to a grown up. Mary Mack is our good friend and you need to apologize, give her a hug and play nice together."

Aubrey was sitting in front of me still in full pout mode, with her arms crossed and her chin tucked into her chest. I saw her glance around me and I looked over my shoulder to see Mary Mack tentatively tiptoeing into the room with red-rimmed eyes.

Aubrey leaned around me and in a move which I later discovered she had learned from my uncle, raised her right hand to her face and used her first two fingers to point to her eyes, then at Mary Mack, twice. It was very Robert DeNiro in "Meet the Parents," and the message was clear--Aubrey would be watching Mary Mack like a hawk.

My kids never actually drew blood, although I wouldn't be surprised if my all of my friends' sweet kiddos have a few more bumps and bruises than they did before meeting the O'Bryant's.

I felt more like a referee than a parent or chaperone on our play dates and I'm not quite sure what to do about it yet, but I have realized that in every scuffle and skirmish this week there was one common denominator…Robin's Chicks.

(Robin O'Bryant is a former Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her,robinschicks@gmail.com.)