My after-school routine contains the following:
1) Kids ask to play with their friends while they are waiting for the bus driver to tell them it is safe to cross the road. I yell at them to pay attention to the bus driver, you know, so they don’t get run over.
2) On the days when they can’t play with their friends, the kids immediately announce they are STARVING because they:
a) haven’t eaten anything in two hours
b) didn’t want to eat the apples and/or sandwich in their lunch
c) all of the above.
3) They hand me their backpacks (or try to) because they are suddenly too heavy to carry down the driveway. My children don’t seem to understand their backpacks will be lighter if they eat everything in their lunch box.
4) They beat me to the house and I trip over the shoes and dirty socks that were left a half a step inside the back door – conveniently right next to the shoe organizer.
5) I remember how much I miss my kids while they are at school.
6) I make the wild beasts a snack and go through their backpacks checking for schoolwork, hoping I don’t find a squished banana in the process.
The schoolwork is usually pretty mundane stuff and I marvel at the number of worksheets my 5-year-old son brings home. Kindergarten seems pretty intense. I didn’t go to kindergarten, so I’m not speaking from personal experience. It is a wonder I turned out to be a productive member of society.
On one particular day last week I found a kindergarten writing assignment completed while the class was on a nature walk. The kids were to write what they saw, heard, smelled, etc. You know where this is going, right?
My son wrote, “Today I smelled Landon’s butt.”
I get it. His teacher wasn’t thrilled with this sentence for the same reasons I try to clamp down on potty talk at the dinner table. Or in public. Or on nature walks.
However, I found this sentence freaking hilarious!
I swear I tried really hard not to smile when I told my son his teacher doesn’t want him to write about smelling butts.
Tell me you aren’t smiling right now.
I knew my kid couldn’t have been the only one who wrote about such things at school. Hello? Little boys. This is what they do. Punctuation aside, at least give him credit for the complete sentence.
I did a quick Google search to see what other people’s kids have written. Imagine my surprise when I saw this letter to the Tooth Fairy written by ANNISA. That’s my name, people.
I know I’m not the only person in the world with this name, but let’s just say I’ve never found my name on a keychain at the tacky souvenir shop. I’ve never even met another me.
Seeing this ballsy letter written by a child name Annisa gave me pause. I even showed it to my husband. He asked if it was mine.
Uh, so you’re saying you think your sweet wife was capable of this as a child? Huh. Tell me what else is on your mind, honey.
The answer to the mystery was just a click away. Apparently this Annisa (not me) did write several such letters to the Tooth Fairy. You would have thought this kid was destined for a career in Accounts Receivable with those straight-forward collection techniques, but no. She ended up in Human Resources.
That was a plot twist.
I’m happy to say no rude notes were written to the Tooth Fairy. It helps that all mythical visitors to our house refuse the right to engage their services if they are treated poorly. They also retain the right to spread the word about rude children to all of their friends. Especially Santa Claus. It’s a tight community.