Today was the last day of First Grade for our daughter, a jam-packed two-hour flash in the pan of a day. We're still not sure why they bothered to bring students and faculty in for so short a time. I'm only slightly joking when I suggest the school has to pay the state back for any pre-paid days they don't use. It's the cell phone plan of education systems: "What do you mean we don't have roll-over days?!"
The drive home was a sonic salvo of information about the events and interactions of her day. It brought to mind a particular conversation she and I had more than a year ago on our way home from Kindergarten, the contents of which continue to make me laugh today. It was so noteworthy that I wrote it down when we got home and sent it promptly to my wife's work email. Thankfully she blogged it, because I had erased the email and ultimately lost its content. Recalling the conversation after today's drive, I went looking for it so that I could impart the story to you:
"Can we watch Mickey Mouse tonight?" 5-year-old J asks from the backseat. I know she means Fantasia, our only video even remotely related to Walt's landmark creation.
"No, not tonight," I answer. We've watched the movie three nights in a row and— despite my enthusiasm for classical music and Disney animation--I'm not ready to make it a fourth. "If we watch anything, let's watch something different." I'm careful not to outwardly condone another movie night.
"Awww," she moans. "But I want to watch it."
With this statement I know the conversation can turn grim, so I look for a diversion. We're about to pass the apartment building mailboxes. "Do you know if Mommy picked up the mail today?"
"Yes."
"She did?"
"No."
"She didn't pick up the mail?"
"No."
"But you said Yes'."
"No," corrects J, "I said yes, I know if Mommy picked up the mail."
"Oh."
"And she didn't."
"Okay. Got it."
"Kipper," she says.
"Pardon?"
"Kipper."
"What about Kipper?"
"I want to watch Kipper tonight."
"Are you asking a question?"
"Yes."
"What are you asking?"
"I'm asking that Kipper's what I want to watch."
"That's not a question."
"I want to watch Kipper, please."
"You know how to ask politely."
Rather than the 'May I please watch Kipper' I'm expecting, there comes a short pause.
Then…
"I don't like squirrels."
The drive home was a sonic salvo of information about the events and interactions of her day. It brought to mind a particular conversation she and I had more than a year ago on our way home from Kindergarten, the contents of which continue to make me laugh today. It was so noteworthy that I wrote it down when we got home and sent it promptly to my wife's work email. Thankfully she blogged it, because I had erased the email and ultimately lost its content. Recalling the conversation after today's drive, I went looking for it so that I could impart the story to you:
"Can we watch Mickey Mouse tonight?" 5-year-old J asks from the backseat. I know she means Fantasia, our only video even remotely related to Walt's landmark creation.
"No, not tonight," I answer. We've watched the movie three nights in a row and— despite my enthusiasm for classical music and Disney animation--I'm not ready to make it a fourth. "If we watch anything, let's watch something different." I'm careful not to outwardly condone another movie night.
"Awww," she moans. "But I want to watch it."
With this statement I know the conversation can turn grim, so I look for a diversion. We're about to pass the apartment building mailboxes. "Do you know if Mommy picked up the mail today?"
"Yes."
"She did?"
"No."
"She didn't pick up the mail?"
"No."
"But you said Yes'."
"No," corrects J, "I said yes, I know if Mommy picked up the mail."
"Oh."
"And she didn't."
"Okay. Got it."
"Kipper," she says.
"Pardon?"
"Kipper."
"What about Kipper?"
"I want to watch Kipper tonight."
"Are you asking a question?"
"Yes."
"What are you asking?"
"I'm asking that Kipper's what I want to watch."
"That's not a question."
"I want to watch Kipper, please."
"You know how to ask politely."
Rather than the 'May I please watch Kipper' I'm expecting, there comes a short pause.
Then…
"I don't like squirrels."
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