If you have a kindergarten teacher in your life, give them a hug. They need it. Because they had been in the classroom for a few weeks, and there were only about 20 people in the room, there was little anxiety. And probably a big insult. Because no one knows how to cut someone like a child. I’m talking about the kind of insult that you think about before you fall asleep at night and that stays with you for years to come.
Of course, your child doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but that’s also the worst part. My kids have cut me down like a dead tree so many times with their off-the-cuff remarks, it’s a wonder I can still leave the house. I only have four. I can’t even imagine what five times that amount would look like. The closest place I can think of is my aunt’s home daycare, a lovely place I went to recently where an innocent young girl asked me if I was pregnant. She was happy for me, I could tell. What’s there to say?
Look, there yes One has nothing to say to an unexpected insult from a small child. They don’t mean any harm and you don’t want to hurt them. their feelings. Well, this summer, I chased my friend’s little boy during a fun game of tag in the backyard until he screamed, “Help! An ugly zombie is chasing me! In fact, I wasn’t wearing a mask.
Or the time a friend bought a copy of my book and she showed it to her little boy. “Look, Jane wrote this book!” she told him. He walked over with a football under his arm, sweating profusely from playing, ready to make a judgment. He held up my book, looked at the author’s photo on the back, and said, “Is this really you?” I told him yes. “Wow… you have really changed.” He said this two years ago. I don’t think I ever forgave him.
I should be used to targeted, honest, and completely devastating insults from toddlers and preschoolers by now. My own kids certainly came up with some fun stuff. “Can you take that ponytail off? Because I don’t know if you’re angry with me or if it’s just the look on your face,” my youngest said when I was literally getting mad at him for his messy room. His comments didn’t help matters.
“Mom, I bet you don’t get cold in the winter because you’re like a polar bear,” another son said sweetly as we took a winter walk together, and I couldn’t be happier.
Once, when one of my children was a toddler, I carried him into the car while he slept in his booster seat. He woke up with a start and yelled, “Don’t touch me! There are holes in my nose! They are! Big! too!” He meant my nostrils. So specific. He is a man now, kind and considerate, and I But he still looked up in the mirror, thinking about how to make his nostrils look smaller.
The problem, of course, is that these insults are not insults. They’re just honest observations from a little kid, they mean you no harm, and can’t help but notice that you, like me, have a “comfortable, soft stomach.” That’s why their observational humor really hits us adults where it hurts. As we were packing up for the beach, my toddler niece told me, “Aunt Jen, I think you’re more of a one-piece bathing suit girl, right?” I meekly changed out of the (very plain) one I was about to wear ) two-piece set. Because she’s right. I have always been a loner.
Despite their stereotyped intelligence, despite their appraising eyes and life-changing quips, the kids are the funniest. Sure, a young child might take it upon themselves to tell their teacher, for example, that their roots are emerging, but they are also often the most interesting people in any room. Everything will be fine, the energy in the class will be positive, fun, and wonderful, and then suddenly a student will say, “Are you a grandma yet? You look as old as my grandma. They’ll get you there quickly and calmly.” Back to the water table, like they’re not over you. They’re like a sweeter version of Princess Margaret.
I’d love to tell you that there is a way to protect against these naive character assassins, but I don’t think there is.
I’ve always wondered how teachers do it. How they rise above it.
Because I can’t seem to do it. I’m still thinking about the year I was a nanny in Switzerland when the French-speaking kid I was babysitting casually asked, “Etes-vous un imbécile?” Let me tell you, being called an idiot in French hurts more. .
The only thing you can do is laugh it off. Remember, they don’t mean anything. As my niece told me, I reminded her of Ursula the Sea Witch little mermaid (sic), she really loved Úrsula. And she really loves me.
She was right, it wasn’t her fault.
Bless all those kindergarten teachers out there who have suffered the arrows of our very honest children. Let’s keep thanking them and praising them because do we really need them?
Jane McGuire is a contributing writer for Romper and Scary Mommy. She lives in Canada with her four boys and teaches life writing workshops where someone cries in every class. When she’s not traveling as much, she tries to organize pie parties and outdoor karaoke with her neighbors. She will sing Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” at least once, but she’s open to requests.
