We had Tornado S’s Parent-Teacher conference last week. The teachers gushed over how sweet and loving and bright and funny and smart Tornado S was. Of course, he’s Tornado S. He’s one of the brightest in the class. He’s tender-hearted and doesn’t compete. He cries when he’s frustrated or when another friend is hurt. He thinks outside the box, and his sense of humor is well-developed for his age. The only downer is that his speech and fine motor skills are behind, and I have to try to get him into a program to help him or he will have to repeat kindergarten because he can’t move on without writing legibly. We’ll work on it.
I love that boy. I love these teachers.
Teacher: I have to tell you this. If it was my child, I would want to know this. (She turned to the other teachers.) Do you mind? I have to tell my Tornado S story. (She called him Tornado S-y, like we do!)
The two other teachers: “Oh please do.” “I love this story.” “He’s so cute.” “This is really cute.”
Teacher: So the other day I was talking with the class. And I said, “Oh, I couldn’t have 16 kindergarteners at my house. That would be too many! I used to have a kindergartener and a baby. But that was a long time ago. My kindergartener is now 15.” And then Tornado S threw his hands in the air and yelled, “SO THAT’S WHY YOU LOOK SO OLD!” It was like this ah-ha moment, this epiphany. It was like he was trying to figure it out, and I finally gave him the key to do so.
Me: The boy doesn’t have much tact.
Teacher: No. But he’s honest and sweet and oh-so-funny.
Me: That he is.