Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Awkward Moment

Today, I had the difficult task of attempting to explain a tricky and complex question from a three year old. There are certain questions that a day care employee shouldn't have to answer. This was one of them. The question had three parts-

Part A: Do you live here?

Part B: Where do you live?

Part C: Why?

The first part is easy.
The answer is, "No." And it's actually pretty obvious to anyone older than five. There are some leads that could sway someone the opposite way, I suppose. Like the fact that I can fix all the puzzles with the extreme expertise that only comes with ownership, over exposure, or being a twenty-five year old playing with preschool toys. I have also read all the books and can sadly sing almost every song in the entire Barney and Elmo
But, all this misguided evidence aside, there's on blaring reason why I can not possibly live in the kid care room of a gym. There's no bed. Not even a cot. There's nothing to sleep in save one of those little baby kick and play things where the baby lies down and kicks at things hanging in front of it (ah, babies. when will they learn?). It is spacially impossible for me to fit in it, though, and if you could figure out that square pegs don't fit in triangle holes you'd understand.

The second part is easy, too.........................if you're not three.
Three year olds don't understand simple directions. You can't say a block from Granville, right off Broadway. You can't say up north. Three year olds have yet to grasp the simple idea of opposite poles. The compass might as well be a broken clock or just a clock, for that matter, since Copernicus is just another mispronounced word for them. And you can't say it's off the Granville stop on the Red Line. Subways and Elevated trains all fall under the same category that of, "train-choo-choo". So, you're left with only I live somewhere else.

The third part is impossible to answer.
If, to begin with, you already don't understand that I don't live in a gym's kid care, how in the hell could I explain why I live somewhere else? And even if, for some ungodly reason, you could explain why you live somewhere else, the inevitable "why" would immediately follow, followed by the third, fourth, and a neverending onslaught of "whys" until one of us hyperventilates and passes out.

So, what do you do? All you have left is to sidetrack them into another conversation. A favorite segue of mine: "Hey, do you know cows say?"


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