On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am fortunate to be able to work remotely, which means I wear old jeans, flip-flops (even in winter), and sweatshirts (today's choice: Hall & Oates). I am also able to pick Toad up after school.
Last Thursday, I waited for him in the vestibule as usual. His teacher, Mrs. Bee, waved to me as he pushed the door open and asked if I could wait for a few minutes while she walked the other kids down to the bus. Toad's face paled and fell, and I knew something was up. I asked him if he had gotten into trouble and he nodded. And then started to cry.
He was crying and speaking so quietly and with gasping breaths and trying to tell me what had happened, it took several attempts for me to understand: he was playing Scrabble, Jr. with a classmate and another classmate (one of his BFFs, incidentally) had reported him for spelling buttboy.
I couldn't help myself. I started to laugh, but quickly recovered in order to comfort and mildly scold him at the same time.
The opportunity had presented itself. The letters were all there, waiting for him to put them together in such a way. And he ran with it.
I asked him my standard question: "Do you feel bad for what you did or do you feel bad because you got in trouble?"
He's six. His usual answer is that he's sorry that he got in trouble, but this time, something had changed. He told me that he was sorry for what he'd done.
It was one of those moments where, as a parent, you're exasperated and proud all at once, brought about by a silly word in Scrabble, Jr.
The B word. Buttboy. Could have been a lot worse.
New Summery Finds
8 years ago
Correct double letter sequence in a six-year-old warrants one quick high-five, doesn't it?
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