That moment when you're at the park with your kid, and she's doing fine, playing with other kids she knows from school--and those kids go home for supper, replaced by a new group; and that new group asks her name and she mispronounces it (making the W sound where the Rs should be), and you see them exchange smirks and scoff...
...And everything else that follows is pretty much the same, but your kid doesn't notice it, because she's so goddamn naïve and trusting...and you can do nothing about it, because it's not the upfront type of bullying where you get to intervene, no; it's the kind where you have to watch it, know what it means, and hope like hell you're kid cottons on at some point and is strong enough to handle it when she does.
(Yeah, I know; bit of a run-on up there).
I hate it. I hate knowing, and seeing it, and having absolutely no way to prepare her for when it gets worse--because let's face it, it does. It always. Effing. Does.