A totally unrelated blog paragraph, but one definitely worth sharing was my conversation with a six-year-old boy at my husband's softball game. The kid was climbing around on the metal bleachers. I tried to distract him as he climbed to the top, backless one. "What grade are you in?" I asked, willing him to take a couple of steps down to safety.
"Kindergarten." He shook his head at me like I was insane. "Whaddya think?"
I kept going, because it was clear he had spunk, which could make things interesting. "Who is your teacher?"
He took one step down. "Her name is Mrs. Poop." He raised one eyebrow. "She poops her pants."
"Realllly...." I say. "Do they know about her down at your school?"
He took a step back up and ignored me.
Another woman was listening in and smirking.
I shrugged. "She must have tenure," I said.