My ten-year old got her first pimple. It wasn't a small one. It was a huge bump on her nose. She didn't want to go to school because she was embarrassed, but she had her periodic assessment that day and she couldn't skip it.
When she entered her classroom, a schoolmate immediately picked on her. He said that her nose looked like a volcano. She tried to ignore him until they received their test results. She got good scores in Math. He didn't.
The boy continued to bully her. My girl told him, "My pimple's going to go away. Your Math score's marked there forever."
Still, she cried to me when she came home. I hugged her. I was proud of her—she had handled her tormentor with class.
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A/N: Not exactly a preschooler, but I'm so proud of my clever tweenager.
YOU ARE READING
Perceptions of a Preschooler
No Ficción"It's your birthday and you get to pick whatever you want. Will you choose Mommy or a fluffy, cute white dog?" The young girl points at me. "Will you choose Mommy or a tall, beautiful horse with a shiny, brown coat?" The young girl points at me. "Wi...
