When I went to pick my daughter up from her first day of preschool, the director wanted to speak to me. Apparently, she stood in front of the class and announced:
Daughter: “My name is [Daughter], I’m a cross-addicted alcoholic, and I’m grateful to be here.”
I then had to explain that her father sometimes brings the kids to his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.
I went home and told my husband, and we laughed and laughed. He didn’t bring the kids to his meetings anymore after that.
I was visiting my goddaughter, and I ask her what she wants to be when she grows up.
Goddaughter: “I want to be everything, except for a bad guy or a cowboy.”
Me: “Why not a cowboy?”
Goddaughter: “I don’t know. I just don’t want to be a cowboy.”
Me: “But you want to be everything else? You’re going to be a plumber, and a cop, and a doctor? Isn’t that a lot of things to do at once?”
Goddaughter: “No, I’ll do them all.”
Mother: “It’s too bad she won’t be a cowboy or she could be all of the Village People at once.”
My goddaughter stayed true to her claim for my whole visit, repeatedly telling me she didn’t want to be a bad guy or a cowboy. Poor cowboys get no love.
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I work with two- to three-year-olds at a daycare. One boy is a little whiny at the end of the day. His mother is in a hurry and looks like she’s about to scold him, which I know will only make things worse for the both of them, so I sit down next to the boy.
Me: “Boy, oh, boy, did we have a busy day or what?”
Boy: *Sighs dramatically* “Oh, Mommy, you wouldn’t believe it.”
Mom gives a tired little smile.
Me: “I think Mommy may have had a very busy day, as well.”
Boy: “Mommy, did you?”
Mom: “I sure did, sweetheart.”
Boy: “I see.”
Me: “How about you put on your shoes so you can go home and have a nice dinner together?”
Boy: *Starts fake crying again* “I don’t waaaant toooooo! I never, ever, ever want to leeeeaaave!”
Mom: “Oh, [Boy], come on!“
Me: “Oof. They really are a handful at this age, aren’t they?”
Mom: “They really are. I just don’t know what’s wrong with him!”
Me: “Oh, don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong with him. He really is just very tired. Once you get some food in him and have a bit of quiet time before bed, he’ll be back to his sweet old self in no time. Every child his age does this, trust me. Now, [Boy], you see Mommy is very tired, too? She’s probably hungry, as well! I bet you’ll have something really nice for dinner. Put your shoes on and Mommy will show you!”
Boy: “You put my shoes on!”
Me: “Me? Oh, I could never. You are way too big to need any help!”
Boy: “That’s right, I am the biggest. Look, Mommy! Look! I can do this all by myself. I don’t need any help at all from no one!”
Mom: “That’s wonderful, honey; I am so proud of you.”
They leave quite happily. A couple of days later is another very busy day with various temper tantrums, ear-piercing screams, pinching, and biting. I am pooped at the end of the day, and I look like a wrung-out mop. The same boy is being picked up by his mother.
Mom: “Oh, dear, look at you! Long day?”
Me: *Managing a smile* “You wouldn’t believe it.”
Boy: *Pets my head* “Oh, don’t worry, nothing’s wrong with her. She really is just very tired. Once you get some food in her and have a bit of quiet time before bed, she’ll be back to her sweet old self in no time. Every lady this age does this, trust me.”
Spot on, kid!
One day, when my younger sister was in kindergarten, her class had a field trip. The teacher told everyone to use the bathroom before they left as they had a long bus ride ahead of them. When my sister said she didn’t need to go, the teacher insisted. She said my sister couldn’t go on the trip unless she used the bathroom.
My sister then proceeded to walk into the bathroom, only to come out a few minutes later.
Sister: “You can make me go to the bathroom, but you can’t make me go pee.”
I wish I’d had the confidence to stand up to a teacher at that age.
I’m working at a summer camp.
Second-Grader: “My dad watches adult movies in the living room after I go to bed.”
Some of the fourth- and fifth-graders start laughing.
Me: “What do you mean?”
Second-Grader: “He watches movies that I’m not allowed to watch because they say bad words and there’s too much fighting and guns.”
Me: “Let’s call them ‘grown-up movies,’ instead. ‘Adult movies’ means something really bad.”
