I am leaving with a stack of hilarity brought to me every day by the 3 and 4 year old's I am dealing with on a daily basis as a part of my Capstone project. I should preface these two short stories with the fact that the first half of my Capstone experience is being completed at a fairly upscale Pre-School filled with children who have parents who are engineers, college professors and doctors. Be fair warned, one of the two stories has some....colorful language.
Let's start with Snotty and Snobby.
Snotty and Snobby are BFF (for those of you who were never middle school girls, that means Best Friends Forever). From the moment they arrive until the moment they leave, these girls are stuck together like glue. BUT, it is very obvious that Snotty wears the pants in this relationship. Like...big time. It's not even a question. She says "Jump." and Snobby says "How high, master?" It's quite comical.
So. Snotty and Snobby are playing like good friends do out on the playground when I hear a shriek come from the corner they are playing in. At the moment I was tending to a child who had slipped on ice and asked me to make sure his butt was still there (don't sweat, it was. It's cracked, but it's still there). I finish up my ordeal with Ice Butt and head over to Snotty and Snobby.
Snobby is bawling her eyes out.
Snotty: I don't know. She just started crying!
Yeaaaaaaaaaa. Okay. Probably not. Let's start over.
"Snobby, what happened?"
"She ::gasps for air:: pulled ::sob sob:: my ::gasp GASP:: haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaair!"
Jesus on a pogo stick.
"Snotty, did you pull her hair?"
"No way. She's my friend. I wouldn't pull her hair!"
I think "Liar".
Snobby shrieks "LIIIIAAAARRRR!" at a decibel that I am sure has left me with irreversible hearing damage.
I send Snobby inside to wash her face and get ready for lunch and shoot Snotty the Death Glare. I am 110% sure she is lying. I can see it in her face.
Five minutes go by. I stop a 4 year old from throwing chunks of ice the size of small basketballs onto the windshields below and save another kid from the terrifying heights of the sliding board. When all of a sudden there is a tug at the bottom of my jacket.
"Mrs. Catie, I have some strings stuck in my gloves, will you help me get them out?"
I look in her glove and I'll be damned if it is not FILLED with long, beautiful blonde curls, similar...no, exactly like the long, beautiful blonde curls that belong to Snobby.
Let's put 2 and 2 together, shall we. Think amongst yourselves.
"Snotty. Did you pull those curls from Snobby's head?"
"Oh, no way! They came from my dog."
"You see, we were playing Mommy and Puppy and she (Snobby) was Puppy and she peed on the rug. So I pulled her by her hair and threw her out back. That's what you do to puppies who pee on the carpet."
Already long story short, I explain to her that we don't pull our friends hair since it's winter time and our friends need their hair to keep their heads warm. What I really wanted to say was "That was kind of a bitchy thing to do, don't ya think?"
So Snobby refuses to sit with Snotty at lunch. She's had it. This abusive relationship has run it's course and she is done.
Then nap time rolls around.
Snobby lays down her mat and settles in for her nap. Snotty comes and lays her mat down right next to Snobby. I can see Snobby thinking "Hold.The.Phone. You pulled out enough of my hair to give Barbie a pretty rockin wig and you think YOU are laying beside ME for nap time? Haha...I don't think so!"
And then, in just about the bitchest tone a four year old can get, Snotty says "If you don't let me lay beside you for nap time, we aren't going to Disney World when we grow up like we have planned on doing. I mean it."
And all is forgiven. We need to send these girls to Washington and show the politicians how to negotiate.
Next, we have sweet, sweet Potty Mouth. PM, for short, actual is a beautiful child. He is well dressed, well mannered and up until about...oh...6 seconds into my visit, I had no idea he had the mouth of a sailor.
He stands over by the play kitchen where there are several play phones and says "Hey, wanna see my 'pression of my momma on tha phone?!"
Sure. Why not?
(Warning: Foul language below)
"I don't give a shit if you don't want to go to the store. These kids are hungry."
::cocks hip, flips imaginary hair and sighs very loudly::
"Go to the fucking store, Hank. I don't care what you buy, but go to the fucking store."
::slams down phone::
"And that's my 'pression of my momma. Pretty good, huh?"
"Yea...Yea...that's great...why don't we go work on our coloring?"
^Exact 'pression of my face.
So...if you have kids, watch what you say. Chances are, they will repeat it at Pre-School.
***All names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the not so innocent.***