Get to preschool today to pick up the little one, and her teachers greet me by way of saying, “So, there was an … incident. And Z is wearing entirely new clothes.”
At my unimpressed face, the other teacher butts in, “It’s not what you think!” (peeing her pants)
“There was a disagreement over who got to use a climbing toy. Another child took umbrage with her claim to it…
Aaaaannnnnnd then threw an entire bucket of water on her.”I absolutely burst out laughing. Which got them laughing. And other
parents in the area laughing. And most of them look really sheepish for
it.As we’re driving away I ask Z who it was. “Santos,” she
responds.Of course it was Santos.
Santos is her arch-nemesis: they have an absolutely hilarious rivalmance thing going on. Both are the youngest child of several older siblings, same personality, same absolutely-never-give-up-ever thing. Either they love each other to death or need to be cordoned off on opposite sides of the building – there is never an in-between.
As we drive out of the parking lot Z asks me, “Where is
he?”, I tell her I have no idea, as he left preschool before
us. Turns out he walks home, and when I get out onto the road I spy him and his dad on the sidewalk. I point them out to her as we pass by.“Roll down my window! Roll it
down!” she says. I do. Then she waves happily to get Santos’ attention,
and once she’s sure he’s looking at her, she balls up her fist and screams out the
window, “SAAAANNNTTOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSS!” at the top of her lungs.Once we’ve passed him she turns back to me and very calmly says, “Alright, you can roll up my window now.”
Oh my god, this is going to be my child.
