Hot Pink Pencil Box

The kids in Mrs. Harnish's kindergarten class have a way of keeping you from going astray. Chase will welcome you with a hug, his arms tightly wound around your thighs. He'll say, "Your legs feel kinda of wiggly-jiggly, huh?" And then a veil of guilt will fall across your heart as you think, "I should have skipped eating that fun-sized Kit-Kat for breakfast."

And then, while your reading a story to Mrs. Harnish's kids, the story about Mr. Wormy and his gargantuan apple, Grant will sneeze a sneeze so large, it will spray spittle-spattle all over your face. You'll gracefully wipe away the spatter, promising yourself a stop at Walgreen's for a flu shot--you've earned it.

While you're explaining to Miranda how to connect the dots, she'll plug her noise while telling you that mints are the best way to cure a serious case of bad breath. She may also remind you to brush more often.

Then Abigail and Shirley will tap you on your shoulder and say, "Little boys should never bring their crayons to school in a hot pink pencil box. Pink is for girls and pretty princesses, not for little boys."

They'll point to the hot pink pencil box sitting atop your very own son's desk. You'll walk over to where he is sitting and whisper into his ear, "Is your pencil box hot pink?"

"Yes. You told me it was the color of cinnamon red, but the girls always say it's hot pink. They tell me this everyday."

You'll tell your little son that he's a stud and to not sweat those gals. What do they know, anyway?

But on the way home from Mrs. Harnish's class, you'll stop off at Walgreen's to buy an electric blue pencil box and a fresh set of crayons. You'll get your flu shot, and just before you check out, you'll buy a 3-pack of chocolates wrapped in gold foil. Instead of eating all three, you'll just eat one, because who wants to continue growing a set of wiggly-jiggly thighs?