Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. Please leave any comments there.
I’m making my diurnal rounds, ensuring the brushing of teeth, the changing of clothes, and the getting to beds, when the voice of Number 2 daughter echoes faintly from the mountain of pink fluff she uses as a bed. Not unexpectedly, she would like a story. Having neither the energy nor the voice for a full story at the moment, I offer her a recitation of Jabberwocky. (This is by far the most useful and versatile piece of literature you will ever memorize – if you can’t recite it right now, finishing reading this, then find a copy. Oh, fine, click here. Lazybones.)
Anyway, she is very well pleased by this, and then we spend a nice moment making faces at each other. (OK, I was helping teach her how to raise just one eyebrow. Also useful, but you’ll have to look up the link yourself.) The moment passes, and I lean in to kiss her goodnight, on her forehead. She jumps back into her mound of pink, giggling like mad, and yells, and I quote, “Uh-uh, no more kisses for you, big boy!”
This, from the 5-yr-old. I nearly hurt myself laughing. What the hell do they teach them at school these days?