We had Sean’s Parent-Teacher conference last week. The teachers gushed over how sweet and loving and bright and funny and smart Sean was. Of course, he’s Sean. 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 Seanny story. (She called him Seanny, 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 Seanny 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.