Don't mess with me I'm a mother

Remember this? I'm not doing so well with #7 or #8, who am I kidding I am failing terribly. I'm failing so badly I ended up crying over the mashed potato tonight.

Michael and I have fondly nicknamed our big boy Sheldon because he is a brain on legs, takes everything literally and has no idea what sarcasm is. Some of this is because of his age but some of it is just his personality. 
He has a very black and white sense of right and wrong and sticks with his guns (read as teachers pet who tattle tales when someone does the wrong thing) I was worried about that more than his reading and writing skills when we sent him off to school last year, but we made it through the year with only a few incidents so this year when school started I wasn't concerned I just packed him off thinking grade 1 would be a walk in the park compared to Prep.
So today he told me he took a little car to school in his pocket to play with at lunch because no one would let him play with them. My stomach turned and I could feel the lump growing in my throat. I tried to be very casual about it and let him talk, I probably looked like a stiff board, but I tried! So it seems he's been left out, one kid kicked sand in his face, one sack whacked him, one told him out right, no you can't play with us.
I know his sense of right and wrong will be a good trait to have once he's an adult but the road to adulthood will be hard and long but we all know that. Being a teenager is hard enough but far out the kid is only 5 years old! 
So while my mother tiger instincts were still taking over my body I suggested we ditch the birthday party and have a fun weekend away instead. Bugger throwing a party for a bunch of kids that let my kid play by himself at lunch time.

Don't mess with me I'm a mother.