Kids Say the Darndest Things - Preschool Edition

I was recently reminded of a time when my mother was frequently babysitting my wonderful daughter, K, many years ago when I was working on my Bachelor's Degree and sometimes worked in the evenings.

My mother would continuously attempt to pump K for information of any sort that she could get. I was in my mid/late-twenties at the time, but my mother seemed to still be under the impression that I was under her charge.

I remember when I dyed my hair a luscious shade of maroonish pink (which looked fabulous, by the way) and K (then 4 years old) decided that she, too, wanted pink hair. I couldn't see any reason why not, so I promptly dyed her blond bob pink, albeit a slightly lighter shade than my own. Pink hair became all the rage at K's preschool and Olivia, a 4 year-old with long blond locks decided that she also wanted pink hair. Olivia's parents sorta ended up kinda hating me as a result.

I should also mention that K's bob was a result of my mother thinking K's hair "too messy" and not liking my attempts at growing out K's bangs. One time, while babysitting for me, my mother brought K to my sister's home (sis is a beauty school dropout) and had sis cut K's hair into a very tidy bob, complete with bangs. I was not happy about this.

Anyway, the lovely K with her pink-haired bob is at my mom's and is making some teasing reference to imposing some sort of preschool evil upon mom's husband, Papa. My mother then says to K, "be careful that you don't upset Papa - or he might call you bad names."

K thinks about this.

"My mom calls people bad names when she's driving," K says, volunteering this info to my mother, who was continually attempting to catch me at less-than-stellar parenting.

"What sorts of bad names?" my mother asks, obviously trying to trap K into dropping an F-bomb so she can confront me about swearing in front of my daughter.

"Gramps," K says, revealing my insult for the drivers in front of me who seem to subtract 15 at every Speed Limit sign.

"And Idiot," K continues, clearly with no sense of loyalty whatsoever.

"And Clown," K finishes, making sure my mother has them all down.

"Oh, those are bad names," my mother assures K, "are there any others?"

K thinks on this another moment and then, fortunately and miraculously, tells my mother no.