The people at Andrea’s pre-school have decided that being the parent of a toddler just isn’t stressful enough, so in order to ensure that all parents get enough stress in their daily lives, all the children do show-and-tell every Friday.
Which is great.
Because three- and four-year-olds are very good about picking things to bring for show-and-tell all by themselves. Sometimes they read the novels they wrote at coffee shops around town.
This means every Thursday night is a scramble for something, anything, she will want to bring to school to talk about.
There are only so many new toys at any particular point in time.
This morning her show-and-tell was the Ballet Barbie with a skirt that rotates and lights up she had just gotten and which made her father doubt the existence of any kind of loving deity.
Great. Another week saved. Show-and-tell is covered!
So tonight at dinner I asked her how show-and-tell went.
“Fine.” (Remember: she’s four.)
“What did the other kids think about your show-and-tell?”
“They didn’t think that much about it.” Big smile. “But they loved it.”
Apart from, “That’s great, honey,” I’m not sure what you can say in response to that.
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