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Unfiltered Story #262985

, , | Unfiltered | July 17, 2022

Several years ago, I had a boy in my class of two-year-olds who called frogs and ducks “f*cks”. One day, as I was out sick, my co-teacher told me they had a flock of ducks land in our playyard for a visit, much to his delight:

Little boy: “Look Ms. [Teacher]! F*ckies! Lookit da f*ckies!”

They went outside that afternoon, and the boy chased the ducks around with glee, saying “F*ckie, f*ckie, f*ckie!” until the ducks flew over the wrought-iron fence and landed just on the other side, out of reach. So the little boy picked up the Oak seed pods and threw them toward the ducks, who began to nibble them.

Little boy: “Ma feetin da f*ckies!” (Me feeding the duckies!) Ma feetin da f*ckies!”

My co-teacher just about died of laughter that day, and it cheered me to hear of it. To this day, I’m still friends with my co-teacher, and we still call them f*ckies.

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