I teach younger children. One school assignment is for kids to make a poster about themselves, answering a few questions such as when they were born and what their favorite things were. Every day, we have a few kids present their poster, explaining things they had on it and answering questions from the class.

Today, the girl presenting is a very sweet and smart child who has a tendency to be a bit precocious, as her parents are very open and honest with her, resulting in her knowing things most parents hide from kids.

Girl: “And when I grow up, I want to be a programmer and a surrogate!”

Almost immediately, a kid asks what a surrogate is, but I make them wait until after the girl’s presentation. When the presentation is over, plenty of hands go up for questions. I’m not surprised when the second student called on has this question: 

Student #1: “What’s a serra-git?”

Girl: “A surrogate is someone who helps women who can’t get pregnant but really want to have a baby. She will be pregnant for them and then give them the baby when it’s born.”

[Student #1] blurts out without raising her hand again, sounding shocked:

Student #1: “You have to give away your babies?”

Girl: “It doesn’t have to be your baby. There are two kinds of surrogates. One type, it is your baby, but you promise to let the mom and dad have it, but the other type, the mom and dad make the baby with a doctor’s help, and then they just put it in you for the pregnancy. I’d do the one where it wasn’t my baby at first because it’s supposed to be easier. But I might do the one where it’s my baby, too, if the surrogate is open so I would still get to visit the baby but I wouldn’t be the mom.”

I’m torn on how to handle this. On the one hand, some parents will get angry if any topic remotely touching on sex, sexuality, or where babies come from is ever discussed in my classroom, even if I’m not the one discussing it, so I know I risk angry parents just from this answer. I know the best thing to do would probably be to stop taking questions now to avoid this topic getting any more dangerous.  

That being said, I also personally believe parents try too hard to shelter their kids, and all the current research and child psychologists I’ve read seem to agree with me on that topic. I have always been frustrated that I couldn’t answer reasonable questions kids have out of concern for parents’ responses.

This little girl is the perfect example of that; I know her parents tell her everything and she clearly understands it, and still, she grew up well adjusted and kind. I don’t like the idea of shutting the girl down from giving sincere answers just because parents may complain, especially since only two questions have been asked, and the kids may notice she got fewer questions than most and wonder why. In the end, my own curiosity to see how she will answer future questions wins out, and I decide to let a few more questions go despite risking irate parents.

Student #2: “Can you be a programmer and a surrogate?”

Girl: “Yes. You can be pregnant while programming, but I might have to take a day off to have the baby.”

Student #3: “Why do you want to be a surrogate?”

Girl: “My parents had me using a surrogate. They couldn’t do the kind where the baby is made by the mom and dad, so I’m actually made of partly my dad and partly my surrogate; we call her Aunt [Surrogate], but she isn’t really my aunt. She visits me sometimes and is really fun to play with, and my mom and dad are always thanking her for helping them have me because they love me so much. She made my mom and dad really happy by helping, and I want to do that for other moms and dads. Also, some moms and dads will pay lots of money for one, so it could help pay for college or something if I needed money.”

Student #4: “How does the baby get in the surrogate?”

Now here is a truly dangerous question for me, and I immediately start trying to think of how to interrupt this answer delicately when the girl beats me to it.

Girl: “Umm… a doctor helps with the one kind, but that’s all I’m allowed to say. You’re supposed to ask your mom or dad.”

Thankful for the discretion of this girl and her parents, I took the out here and ended question time after this question. I thanked the girl for her lovely answers and we moved on to the next child.

I eventually learned that at least one child ended up asking their parents some awkward questions about how babies were made thanks to this discussion, though, luckily, I didn’t actually get any angry parents blaming me this time.

Personally, I thought the young girl had a wonderful plan for adulthood. She is clearly smart enough and gifted enough in math to be a programmer, and I sincerely hope she does get to be a surrogate when she’s old enough.

My daughter’s preschool class was taking a field trip to the Honolulu Zoo, and I went along to help chaperone. It must have been preschool day or something; at least half a dozen other schools were there, too, and preschoolers were everywhere.

As our group was walking toward one of the exhibits, I spotted a baby bird on the pathway, where it was in imminent danger of being trampled by four-year-olds. Having recently learned that birds do not abandon their chicks for “smelling like a human,” and, in fact, few birds even have a good sense of smell, I gently picked it up and moved to it to a grassy patch under a tree on the side of the path. I would have left it alone were it not in immediate danger.

We had only moved to Hawaii a few months prior, and I was curious what sort of exotic-to-me tropical bird it might be, so as I was moving it, I had my daughter’s teacher take a picture. As the bird still only had downy feathers, I couldn’t really tell what it was.

I got home and emailed the picture to the local chapter of the Audubon Society and awaited a reply. In the meantime, I looked through a bird book. Maybe a young cattle egret? A peachick? It wasn’t long before I got a reply.

It was a rock pigeon — not even a tropical pigeon, but the grey pigeon you see in just about every city.

That was nowhere near as exciting as I’d hoped, but at least the bird didn’t get trampled.

Customer: “I’d like a cappuccino with no coffee.”

Me: “So, decaf shots?”

Customer: “No, a cappuccino with no coffee.”

Me: “So just steamed milk?”

Customer: “No, no coffee.”

Me: “A cappuccino is coffee and steamed milk, so with no coffee, it will just be steamed milk.”

Customer: “Oh… Then can I have a latte with no coffee?”

Me: “That’s still just steamed milk. Just less foam.”

Customer: “Oh… What espresso drinks can I get with no coffee?”

Spoiler alert: you can’t get an espresso drink without espresso.

Related:
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 5
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 4
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 3
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 2
Cappuccino-No-No

I pull into a drive-thru with a mid-sized line of cars. When the woman ahead of me does not pull up when the line moves, I notice that she is on her phone. No big deal; she is still three cars back from the speaker.

Once she has four open car lengths in front of her and the order speaker is open and she still has not looked up from her phone, I tap my horn briefly to wake her up. She makes eye contact with me and scowls before putting her car in drive and pulling up to the speaker.

She puts her car back in park, places her order, and goes right back to her phone. When she is supposed to move up again and it is my turn to order, but she still has not looked up, I tap my horn a second time.

She pulls up, puts her car in park, gets out, slams her door, and marches back toward me. For the dialogue, picture her standing outside my car window yelling and waving her hands.

Entitled Woman: “Why are you honking at me? What the h*** are you f****** beeping at?”

Me: “Because you weren’t moving.”

Entitled Woman: “You were back there and you were fine, so what the h*** are you even talking about?!”

This part goes on a bit. Honestly, I have no idea what she is trying to say, but I am starting to get a bit peeved.

Me: “Get off your f****** phone, lady!”

Entitled Woman: “My car was in park, so it’s legal for me to be on my phone! That’s none of your business, so mind your own business!”

This part is said with a supreme look of triumph like everyone knows it is okay to park in a drive-thru to use your phone and I’m the idiot here. I’m pretty much done.

Me: “Look, lady, you are in the wrong, and you know you are, so just go back to your car.”

Entitled Woman: “I’m not wrong! You’re the one who’s wrong!”

But she does head back to her car. And then, for just the topping on the irony cake, before she gets back in, she screams:

Entitled Woman: “YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN!”

I’m working one of the garden center registers, and I am the only cashier out there. A young man comes to my register with three gift cards he wants to fill.

Customer: “And I’ll be paying with this.”

He pulls out a type of card I’ve never seen before, but I figure it must just be for a local bank.

Me: “Okay, how much would you like on the first card?”

Customer: “Two hundred, please.”

I enter two hundred dollars onto the gift card.

Customer: “You need to enter two hundred dollars cash, and then I’ll use my card to actually pay.”

Me: “Um… I’m sorry, but I can’t enter a cash payment unless you’re actually paying cash.”

Customer: “No, it’s fine. It’ll work. Just enter two hundred dollars and I’ll pay with my card once it gets accepted.”

Me: *Confused, but firm* “I can’t hit the cash button unless you give me cash. If you want to use your card, you can swipe or insert it now.”

This goes on a few more times until a manager comes out to check on me.

Customer: “You know what, never mind. It’s not that important.”

He walks off.

Me: “What was that?”

Manager: “That was a scam. Good for you for not falling for it.”

Me: “Oh.”