Kids, like Wow

Here’s the latest from the kindergarten room.  This time it was me as reader, and I had brought in a bunch of owl books.  I had just read about how owls throw up bones and fur a couple times a day, and this discussion happened:

Me: Does anyone know what the thing that owls throw up is called?  What’s the name for it?
Kid in the blue sweatshirt: A tummy ache!

Of course, the next two answers were “poop” and “It’s my birthday on Friday,” so Tummy Ache was looking pretty good!

Over in the second grade , things have gotten a little comical, too.  Rocco loves to play kickball at recess, but there’s this one kid who calls a redo every time he gets out. He kicks up a pop fly, Rocco’s team catches it, he calls, “REDO!”  Rocco’s team grudgingly complies.

As you can imagine, Rocco is none too pleased about this.  I *might* have suggested Rocco tell his team to take a stand and not pitch it to the Redo Kid, and they did.  The Redo Kid kicked it out of bounds, he called for a redo, and the pitcher said, “No.”  This had never happened before.  There was a bit of a kerfuffle and some angry words were exchanged, but eventually the Redo Kid had to go to the back of the line.  All was well.

Until the next day.

The next day, Rocco said one of the friends on his team was having a really bad kickball day.  Every time Rocco passed him the ball, he was studying his nails or looking at the birds, and he missed every pass Rocco sent him.  After the game, he came up to Rocco and confessed that—are you ready for this?  The Redo Kid had asked him to be a double agent on the other team.

All this leaves me both giggling and shaking my head.  I was wishing I could petition Mo Willems to write a book called “DON’T LET THE PIGEON HAVE A REDO,” but as Mo can’t take requests, I had to write the darn thing myself.  Maybe someday I’ll even try to get it published.

While the Redo Kid might be a terrible kickball player, I think he’s going to have a brilliant future working for Bernie Madoff some day.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Date night! 

(Not as in we’re eating a lot of dates, but as in we’re going on a date!  Food TBD.)

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