The Kiddos

Oh, I have the types.  I have one kid who wears argyle sweaters and has excellent posture and always speaks with one index finger pointed in the air for emphasis, like he's been watching Bill Clinton's infamous "I did not sleep with that woman" news clips over and over in his free time. He wears big thick glasses and is absolutely charming. He's about six.

I have one class of charming five year olds in which the contest seems to be who can tell me the most times in one class how pretty I am. They are my favorite class, for obvious reasons.  I am constantly stumbling over small children who are earnestly tugging at my shirt "Seño, que quapa!" they purr, sweet as candy, then go back to their seats and lord over their seatmates that they scored another point in the cosmic game.

I have another girl who has long brown braids and brings an olive oil sandwich to school every day for lunch. Two pieces of sandwich bread, crusts cut off, olive oil and salt in the middle.  Another boy always has a butter sandwich, which feels so genius that I honestly don't know why that's never occurred to me before.

I have a litle boy in one of my preschool classes who has a single-minded focus on assessing the stretchiness and overall flexibility of his *ahem* wee willy wonka.  He pulls it out of his pants and stretches it in every direction, snapping it back occasionally. He is absolutely delighted, and there appears to be nothing lustful about his obsession, just a rather unhappy habit of doing it in public.