(I’m driving my five-year-old daughter to daycare, and on the way, we’re listening to a very popular rock radio morning show. Today, the hosts are comparing “Bohemian Rhapsody” to “Rocketman.” As I pull up to the daycare and I’m walking her inside, she says:)

Daughter: “Mommy! I didn’t know our Freddie Mercury was famous enough to be talked about on the radio!”

Me: “[Daughter], they weren’t talking about our cat. They were talking about the singer he was named after.”

Daughter: “But I like cats better…”

(I work at a daycare, and kids say some pretty funny things.)

Four-Year-Old: *holding up his shirt and looking at his chest* “ Miss [My Name]!”

Me: “Yes?”

Four-Year-Old: “I have itty little bitty boobies!”

Me: “Umm…”

Four-Year-Old: “Miss [My Name]?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Four-Year-Old: “You have great big boobies!”

(I wear an A-cup.)

(I’m talking to a six-year-old student. I’ve told her my age a dozen times but she never remembers it.)

Student: “Ms. [My Name], how old are you?”

Me: “How old do you think I am?”

(She sits quietly for over a full minute.)

Student: “You’re six!”

Me: “Uh… no, I’m not six. You’re six; do you think we’re the same age?”

Student: “No.”

Me: “Okay, how old do you think I am?”

Student: *after thinking again* “You’re six.”

Me: “No. I’m a little older than that; do you want to guess again?”

Student: “You’re ninety-eight.”

Me: “No! Not that much older. I’m only nineteen.”

Student: “Oh, that’s like really old. Even older than ninety-eight!”

(Thanks, [Student]… It wasn’t until working with kindergarten that I was ever called old, but these kids manage to make me feel ancient every time I visit their class.)

Related:
That Age-Old Problem

(I’m a nineteen-year-old student going to college for a music education degree. Two days a week, I go to a kindergarten daycare class to observe and gain field experience. I always sit with the kids at lunch to get to know them better. Today, they are talking about their siblings.)

Me: “I don’t have any brothers; I just have a little sister.”

Student #1: “How old is your sister?”

Me: “She’s sixteen.”

([Student #2] glares at me)

Student #2: “You said you had a little sister. Sixteen isn’t little!”

Me: “Well, I’m older than her, so compared to me she’s little.”

Student #2: “But sixteen isn’t little!”

Student #1: “My big sister is sixteen.”

Student #2: “See?! Sixteen is big!”

Me: “Well, that’s because you’re little. I’m big, so sixteen is smaller. Remember, I told you I’m nineteen. Is sixteen bigger than nineteen?”

Student #2: “No, it’s smaller.”

Me: “So, my age is bigger than my sister’s age, making her the little sister.”

Student #2: “But sixteen isn’t little!”

(I was not able to convince [Student #2] that it was my age that determined whether my sister was little or not, not their ages. She still thinks I’m lying when I call my sister “my little sister.”)

(One day at the child care center where I work, I have a little boy come in with red fingernail polish on. Later that day, one of my male coworkers sees him and walks up to me.)

Coworker: “Who painted that child’s fingernails?”

Me: “His mom.”

Coworker: “Oh, my God.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “That poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.” *walks away*

(You’re a male working in childcare and you want to hold a three-year-old to traditional gender expectations?)