It’s Not Your Imagination

, , , | Learning | June 19, 2017

(I work for a daycare centre. I am saying goodbye to the children before we close, when a young boy asks me a question.)

Boy: “Can I bring my dog tomorrow?”

Me: “Sorry, but we aren’t allowed pets.”

Boy: “What about imaginary?”

Me: “Oh, imaginary is fine!”

(His face lights up and I say I’m looking forward to meeting his dog. The morning after, the owner comes into the office where I am printing the register for the day.)

Owner: “Did you tell the kids yesterday that they could bring pets?”

Me: “No— Oh, there was one boy who wanted to bring an imaginary dog.”

Owner: “[Boy]? Well he’s brought a REAL dog.”

(I follow the owner out and see a bunch of children playing with a border terrier puppy.)

Boy: “Miss, come see!”

(I walk over and pet the pup. It’s seems perfectly content.)

Me: “I thought you said you had an imaginary dog?”

Boy: “I do!”

(I look at him and then his father, who looks rather amused. The owner then tries to convince the boy that he’s wrong, with the boy adamant that he’s right. Then the thought hits me.)

Me: “May I?”

(I pick up the pup and check its nametag. I’m actually silenced by the revelation and show the owner. She looks equally as stunned before laughing hysterically. The dad then owns up and admits he wanted to see our reaction before taking the dog home. The owner was impressed enough that she decided to let it stay as long as the other parents were ok with it. A couple weren’t pleased, but after seeing how happy their children were, decided to go with it. So Imaginary the dog got to spend the day with us.)

The Cake Is A Cry

, , , , , , | Learning | May 29, 2017

(I am a head teacher for the two- to three-year-old room of a daycare center. This age is known for tantrums, but this particular child takes the cake. Literally. We are having a little party in our room and parents have brought us treats.)

Me: “Who’s excited for our party?”

Children: “We are!”

Me: “Me, too. Now your parents have brought us yummy things like cookies, cupcakes, fruit, and popcorn. Should we eat only cookies and cupcakes?”

Children: “No!”

Me: “How come? I love cupcakes; they’re yummy!”

Children: “You’ll get a tummy ache!”

Me: “That’s right. So since we don’t want any tummy aches, I am going to give each of you only one cookie and one cupcake. Once you finish those you can’t have anymore, ok? But you can have more fruit and popcorn.”

Children: “Okay, Miss [My Name]!”

(My assistant teacher and I pass out the food and everyone is happy until one asks for more.)

Child: “I want another cupcake.”

Me: “Do you remember what I said before we started, [Child]? I said that everyone was only going to get one cookie and one cupcake. No more because you will get a tummy ache. But you can have some more fruit or popcorn.”

Child: “I WANT ANOTHER CUPCAKE!”

Me: “I understand that but no one else is getting more cupcakes. You’ve already had yours. Do you want anymore popcorn?”

(The child is upset and starts screaming loudly at me and my coworker. He pushes his plate off the table and falls to the ground. I am trying to calm him down when his grandma shows up to pick him up. She walks in, sees him screaming and having a fit, and me kneeling next to him.)

Grandma: “What’s going on?”

Me: “I explained to [Child] that before we started our party I would only give each child one cookie and one cupcake. He asked for another one and I reminded him what I said.”

Grandma: *grabbing the child’s hand* “Stop crying and we’ll get a treat at home.”

(Thanks, grandma. Unfortunately, my boss and other teachers also did this when the child didn’t like my answer. He quickly learned that he just had to scream loud enough to get someone else’s attention and whoever it was would tell him that they would get him whatever he wanted if he stopped crying. I quit shortly after.)

Are You In-Zayn?

| Dallas, TX, USA | Right | January 20, 2017

(I work in a daycare. One day, I’m supervising some kids and one of them comes up to me and starts a conversation.)

Boy: “Do you like music?”

Me: “Yes, I love music.”

Boy: “What’s your favorite band?”

Me: *lists a few*

Boy: “So, not One Direction, then? I like them. Especially the one song that goes ‘best night ever!’”

Me: “Oh, I do like that one.”

Boy: “I watched the music video for that song. It had a boy dressed like a girl in it.”

(At this point, I’m not sure where the conversation is going, but I decide to proceed with caution just in case…)

Boy: “And you look like the girl!”

(I sit speechless for a moment as he wanders away, having told me I look like Zayn Malik dressed in drag.)

Where The Wild Artistic License Are

| NY, USA | Learning | December 27, 2016

(It’s near the end of the day and the remnants of my class have just come in from the playground. Everyone is hot and tired so we settle the kids in quiet area with me for story reading. A three-year-old brings me a copy of “Where The Wild Things Are”.)

Kid: “Miss [My Name], can you read ‘Max Doesn’t Listen To His Mommy’?”

Dishing Out Just Desserts

| London, England, UK | Working | November 30, 2016

(It’s six o’clock in the evening at the end of a long day. We are short staffed on a normal day, but this morning we had one coworker call in sick and another had to leave due to a personal emergency, leaving only four staff members and the business consultant (B.C.), who has no formal childcare qualifications but does have First Aid. At this point, two of my coworkers have gone home so it is just me, my coworker, and the B.C., with five children left to go home. There are some dirty dishes left over from tea time and everyone is feeling too lazy to do them.)

Coworker: “[My Name], [B.C.], there are still dishes from tea to be washed up. I can’t leave the room because I’m the only qualified practitioner, so…” *gives us a joking/evil grin*

Business Consultant: *laying down in the corner, half asleep* “I’m First Aid, I can’t leave the room either. [My Name] it’s down to you. Have fun!”

Me: “Well, I have a child on my lap, so…” *looks at child and stage-whispers* “Hey, [Child], cough and pretend you’re ill.”

Child: *looks at me and clears his throat a few times* “I can’t do it. I’ll do it later when you wash the dishes.”

Me: *shocked and laughing* “[Child]! I can’t believe you’d dob me in like that!”

(Coworker and B.C. were almost falling over laughing at me being sassed by a three-year-old.)

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