The thing that makes me the most nervous about William being in preschool isn't the curriculum, or the teachers, or if he'll make friends or even if he might have a potty accident. What makes me the most nervous are the things he might tell his teacher when I'm not around.
William has no verbal filter.
When we get into a social setting he gets so excited (100% extrovert, this one) that he often blurts out whatever comes to mind.
"My Grandma lives in Alexandria!"
"We have a swing in our yard now!"
"Did you know it's apple season?"
These are perfectly appropriate statements even if they have nothing to do with the person we're speaking with or what we're speaking about.
But every once in a while he will say something that, without context, could be translated to mean many different things.
One time I was talking to our sweet next door neighbor. A woman who is neither married nor has children and who might not understand the absurdities that come out of a 3-year-old's mouth. All the sudden William felt the need to add his two cents to our conversation.
"Excuse me," He said politely.
"Yes, William?"
"Did you know that my penis hurts?"
Seriously. That's what he said.
I quickly explained to our lovely neighbor that William was experiencing a slight bladder infection. We thank her daily for giving us the benefit of the doubt and not calling Child Protective Services.
Yesterday was Red Day at preschool. All the children wore red, they ate a red snack and they talked about all things red. During one exercise the children were told to name everything they could think of that was the color red. Fire trucks and apples and tomatoes and somebody's shirt and so forth. This list was on a large sheet of paper and was taped outside the classroom for all the parents to read while we were waiting for class to be over.
About halfway through the list was an item that everyone was pointing to and laughing. It read: A Mom's Drink.
A cosmo? Red wine? A bloody mary? They were all trying to guess what this drunk of a mom might be drinking in front of her preschool-aged child.
You all see where this is going.
So class let's out and I'm shuffling by the rest of the parents and children. William's teacher stops me. With a giant smile on her face she informs me that William is the culprit of declaring a Mom's Drink his contribution to the "Things That Are Red" list.
I give her a nervous laugh and hightail it out of there. But all the while I'm wondering what the heck William was referring to.
While it's true that I'm not so prude that I deny all alcoholic drinks while in the presence of my children, I honestly could not think of a time in the recent past where I had had a red cocktail and where I declared to William that it was a mom's drink.
Then the lightbulb went off and I remembered. Last week after lunch I poured myself a beverage and William asked if he could have some. I don't usually like either of my kids to consume this type of drink so I told him it was a drink only for moms.
The beverage? A glass of Cran-Raspberry juice. Virgin.
Come to think of it maybe I should have let William have a little. It could help ward off those bladder infections.
William has no verbal filter.
When we get into a social setting he gets so excited (100% extrovert, this one) that he often blurts out whatever comes to mind.
"My Grandma lives in Alexandria!"
"We have a swing in our yard now!"
"Did you know it's apple season?"
These are perfectly appropriate statements even if they have nothing to do with the person we're speaking with or what we're speaking about.
But every once in a while he will say something that, without context, could be translated to mean many different things.
One time I was talking to our sweet next door neighbor. A woman who is neither married nor has children and who might not understand the absurdities that come out of a 3-year-old's mouth. All the sudden William felt the need to add his two cents to our conversation.
"Excuse me," He said politely.
"Yes, William?"
"Did you know that my penis hurts?"
Seriously. That's what he said.
I quickly explained to our lovely neighbor that William was experiencing a slight bladder infection. We thank her daily for giving us the benefit of the doubt and not calling Child Protective Services.
Yesterday was Red Day at preschool. All the children wore red, they ate a red snack and they talked about all things red. During one exercise the children were told to name everything they could think of that was the color red. Fire trucks and apples and tomatoes and somebody's shirt and so forth. This list was on a large sheet of paper and was taped outside the classroom for all the parents to read while we were waiting for class to be over.
About halfway through the list was an item that everyone was pointing to and laughing. It read: A Mom's Drink.
A cosmo? Red wine? A bloody mary? They were all trying to guess what this drunk of a mom might be drinking in front of her preschool-aged child.
You all see where this is going.
So class let's out and I'm shuffling by the rest of the parents and children. William's teacher stops me. With a giant smile on her face she informs me that William is the culprit of declaring a Mom's Drink his contribution to the "Things That Are Red" list.
I give her a nervous laugh and hightail it out of there. But all the while I'm wondering what the heck William was referring to.
While it's true that I'm not so prude that I deny all alcoholic drinks while in the presence of my children, I honestly could not think of a time in the recent past where I had had a red cocktail and where I declared to William that it was a mom's drink.
Then the lightbulb went off and I remembered. Last week after lunch I poured myself a beverage and William asked if he could have some. I don't usually like either of my kids to consume this type of drink so I told him it was a drink only for moms.
The beverage? A glass of Cran-Raspberry juice. Virgin.
Come to think of it maybe I should have let William have a little. It could help ward off those bladder infections.
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