In the summer, the younger class (three-year-olds) joins up with my class like one big amoeba. Occasionally, one of the toddlers turns old enough (recently turned three) to join us. We have one little one this year. To protect her identity, I will call her Bella.
Bella likes to talk. She makes no sense. Bella does not accept my pleasant smile and an “Oh!” or “yes” or “mm-hmmm” as an appropriate reaction. She tells me her nonsense syllables over and over and over. It helps my psyche to think of Bella as a tiny drunk woman, so I pity her and treat her kindly.
The other day we were getting ready to go outside and I was calling them by their clothing: “If you have stripes, go line up. If you have letters on your shirt, go line up.” She was the last one and had two flamingos on her tank top. (That is not Bella in the banner picture. We have many flamingo shirts this year.) I said, “If you have birds on your shirt, go line up.”
She stared at me blankly.
I repeated myself. Still no comprehension.
“Bella, you have birds on your shirt.”
She looked down at her shirt, then at me. A slow dawning spread over her face as she realized my mistake. She slapped her chest and with a ‘you idiot that’s not what these are’-look boldly declared, “KaPING-o!”
I stand corrected, Bella. Also, thank you for the word of the summer.