This morning, Kendall's class had a walking field trip to the local post office. The kids were adorable with their handmade mailbags stuffed with homemade Valentines and quite proud to do this grown-up job of, well, mailing things.
For some reason, I am a target for filter-less four and five year olds. My most recent attack, er, conversation, went a little something like this:
Me, "Hi, Sweetheart."
Anonymous 5 year old, "Hi Miss Kendall's Mommy."
Me, "How are you today?"
Anonymous 5 year old, "Good. I think you look like my sister's Barbie."
Me, blushing, "You are so silly. I think that..."
Anonymous 5 year old, "You know, if you weren't so very, VERY old."
Me, "uh, well, yeah, I'm, uh, gonna, you know, over here."
I'm fine. Really... fine. Good, even. Fine.
At the very least it's nothing a few mid-morning cocktails can't smooth over.
