So, D, my five-year old is learning to read. This has been interesting. And sometimes things get dicey. First of all, let me say, I could never be a teacher. I simply do not have the patience. But my hubster, my word, he has the patience of a saint.Last night I was on the peripheral (read: kitchen) loading the dishwasher, putting away the leftover tater tot hot dish and keeping one eye on my 2-year old who was generously applying lip gloss and eye shadow  to her petite and filthy face.  I can overhear hubster and D reading a book about bats (the kind that soar through the sky and eat those pesky mosquitoes). Now I have no idea what words are on each page…but I am certain what she read is NOT part of the Kindergarten curriculum.

It went something like this:

D: “I. See. A. Bat.”

Hubster: “Sound it out. Does that word look like bat to you?”

D: “No. Ah…ah…”Hubster: {encouraging her as she clearly has the right sound since the word she is trying to read is “eyes”.}

D: “Ah…ah…asshole?”

Hubster: {Doesn’t even flinch*} “D, try again.”

D: {continues on with help from her dad…} “ah…eyes. EYES!”

*meanwhile, I choked on my Three Buck Chuck and felt the need to excuse myself. I also took mental note to discontinue calling the construction workers that block me from entering my neighborhood day after day for the past nine months “assholes”. And while I’m being honest with myself, I will try really hard not to refer to the soccer mom in her overgrown Lexus SUV that blocks the entrance to the parking lot of D’s gymnastics an asshole either. Instead I will call her “eyes”.

-H