Three kids, three preschool stories.

Three kids, three preschool stories.  Art Linkletter was right.  Kids say (and do) the darndest things.

                                                 
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Josh had just been in pre-school a few days when I received the kind of phone call no parent wants to get.  The gal at the other end of the phone was so frazzled she could barely speak.

     "Mrs. Zimmerman, I am so sorry!"

     "What's wrong?"

     "I'm just so, so sorry!"

     "Is Josh okay?"

     "This happened so fast, I couldn't stop it!"

     By now, I am a total, complete wreck.  "Is my son okay?" I yelled into the phone.

     "Yes, yes.  But when we sat down to have lunch, before I could get him his peanut butter sandwich, he grabbed the hot dog that belonged to the kid sitting next to him AND ATE THE WHOLE THING!"

Yes, I'm a vegetarian.  No, my son isn't - a choice he clearly made in preschool.

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I went inside to drop Jessica off at preschool and she was invited to sit in the circle.  She sat down next to a boy with a horrible runny nose.  Green stuff was pouring down his face.  We've all seen it.  It's gross.

The next day, same exact scenario.

The third day, same.

That evening Jessica said to me, "I don't want to sit next to that germy kid tomorrow."

I lit up!  Clearly my little three-year-old was a genius! I had suspected as much, and now here was the confirmation I needed.  Face it, how many kids talk about germs when they're three?  I bragged that night, oh how I bragged!  Told the husband, called the grannies, casually mentioned it to friends and neighbors.  I was on cloud nine.  My daughter, a future Madame Curie!

Next morning as I drop my smart and lovely daughter off at preschool, the germy kid and his mom are behind us.  Mom kisses her son and says, "Have a great day, Jeremy!"


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Our house had a den off to the side of the dining room and tucked away on the inside wall of that room was a fish tank that contained Goldie, world's greatest goldfish.  You couldn't see the tank from the dining room, you actually had to step into the den to see it.  On this morning, I did just that and discovered my three-year-old Katie in her pink blanket sleepers, teetering on top of a box, placed upon a chair.  Her right hand was plunged up to her armpit in the water.

     "What are you doing?"  I asked.

     "Sshhh....I'm fishing and I almost got one!"  She replied.


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