Gawd, parenting is fun sometimes.

My son tells me he does not like school. Since for ninety-five percent of children under the age of twelve, recess is the only good thing about education, I urge him to consider the merits of the playground at school.

“Is there a slide outside at your school?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a sandbox?”

“Yes.”

“A tricycle?”

“Yes.”

“Elephants?”

“Yes.”

Then a typical conversation between my ten-year old daughter and me:

“I have a bodyguard at school.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

I snicker, imagining the negotiation on the schoolyard. I ask, “What makes you need a bodyguard? What sort of important person are you?”

“Uh, I am special.”

“Unspecified special?”

“Yep, unspecified special.”

And:

The little one is cranky. He does not want to walk through the grass to the car. He does not want a snack. He only wants to be held. My lower back has become sore by holding this thirty-five pound lamb chop, so I am not willing to carry him the distance to the car.

I pretend I have received a call on the cell phone. “Luis,” I say, “it’s the elephant on the playground. She wants to talk to you.”

He reaches for the phone. Just as I begin to worry that he will quickly bore of listening to a silent cell phone, my daughter offers to call him and pretend she’s the elephant.

Ten minutes later, he’s lifting his leg into the car, while carrying on an intense conversation with Miss Elephant.

By Vicki Inglis

Labels: school, silly, Vicki Inglis

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