Ain’t Your Father Grand

(I’m four years old. It’s my second week of pre-school and up until now I have been dropped at home by the school bus, but this day because my dad has a day off from work he comes to pick me up. He signs in and talks to the receptionist who calls the classroom. My dad was 55 when I was born so he gets mistaken for my grandfather a lot. Also he is an Irishman who speaks his mind.)

Teacher: “Your grand-dad is here to pick you up”

Me: *confused I look out the door* “That’s not my grandpa; that’s my dad.”

Teacher: “It’s not nice to tell fibs. Come along now.”

(My teacher walks me out to where my dad is waiting.)

Teacher: *to my dad* “Hello Mr. [Name]. You know I think it’s wonderful when the grandparents of the children help out.”

Dad: “So do I but I’m not her grandfather. I’m her father, you twit.” *to me* “Come on, bub. Let’s go.”

(I saw the teachers face go red as she ran back into the classroom. She avoided me as much as possible for a long time and I think she used to hide when dad would pick me up!)