I think that I will stop talking to my daughter's preschool teacher. Not because I prefer it but because I think that she might. It might be because to look at me is to look at the face of awesome. Turns out that awesome looks like a middle aged fat guy who didn't shower today. Or it might be because I look a lot like her husband. She tells me that every time I go in. So when she looks at me she is probably thinking "that fat bastard didn't flush this morning." Even though I am religious about flushing as I have 2 kids in the house that like to throw my cell phone in the toilet.
It could be any of those things of course. But chances are it's something else.
I walked into my daughters classroom and said hi to everyone. I tied up my white stallion and sauntered into class. I put my astronaut helmet down and undid my Batman utility belt. The kids think I am bad ass.
"How did she do today" I asked.
The look the teacher gave me should have been enough to tell me. If I had any sense I would have just turned around and got back up on my horse and ridden to my space shuttle while catching a football. But I didn't, because I am a concerned parent that wants to make sure that I know what is going on with my daughter's life.
"Ok, what happened."
I know what you are all thinking. That she pinned some poor boy down and made him her bitch. Perhaps that she took off her underwear and put them in a tree, because she has done that. It's not any of those things. At school she is actually a little angel. She takes her directions well, she plays well with others and has not punched anyone. Hand to God, hasn't punched a single kid. She is everything I would want her to be in school. Which is why I was a little surprised when I got the look from the teacher.
"It's probably nothing" she began. This is the story she told me.
Little Hoss was having a great day. She was skipping and laughing outside with the other kids. The sun was shining and all was good at the land we call preschool. Then Little Hoss decided to go to the bathroom.
She was in there for about a minute before the teachers heard her screaming. A loud scream, a loud scream that I think I have described before on this blog.
They run into the bathroom to see what is happening. My daughter is on the toilet.
"What's wrong?" they ask her.
This is what she said.
"It's ok. Daddy said it was an accident."
And there you go. That's why I got the look from the teacher. She thinks that I am a pedophile. Fantastic.
There is only one option here as I am not a pedophile. I can't even look at 18 year olds without feeling creepy. What I'm thinking is that she was a little backed up and the poop hurt coming out. I find this the most likely scenario. And why does this mean "Daddy says it was an accident?" Because Little Hoss is a bit of a klutz. Not so much as a bit, I mean that that little girl can stub her toe on flat carpet. It's true, I've seen it happen. So when she hurts herself and sometimes others, that's what I tell her. I tell her that it's ok because it was an accident and accidents happen. At the time, it sounded like a great fatherly thing to say to sooth my daughter. I had no idea that she would say it to a teacher while she was in the toilet. Taken in that context, it doesn't sound so good.
Look, let's throw a little honesty out here. Everyone has had the bowel movement that would make Godzilla cry. At one point even John Wayne has been on the throne covered in a cold sweat and gripping the handrail trying to work one out. He may not have cried, but I bet that's why he walked so funny. Ask a pregnant woman about the first poop after giving birth. It happens, we've all been there. And it looks like my daughter has experienced one of those herself. But how to explain all this to the teacher?
I'm a story teller. That's what I do. It does not appear that I do it so well when I'm being given the look of "Monster!" by a lady that deals with children all day. I'm stumbling. I tell her about the accident thing, I mention bugs and Little Hoss's phobia of them. I tell her about the time I dumped my own pants back at summer camp. I don't know what I'm talking about. It's not going well.
The teacher doesn't say anything but just keeps giving me that dead eyed stare. The one that you know behind those eyes she's trying to believe me or not. I guess she did because she said "ok" and that was the end of it. I quickly gathered my daughter's belongings and got out of dodge. Now I feel weird thinking that our teacher thinks I'm a creep.
Our nice little relationship has gotten awkward, at least for me. She seems to have forgotten all about it. Our school year ends in 2 weeks and I'm hoping in that time I don't have to say anything more than "bye" to her. I'm kind of wishing that Little Hoss would pop someone just so we can move on and create a distraction. But of course, this could be seen as acting out. So maybe I should just continue to not say anything.
I plan on saying a lot more when the expected call to child services goes through and they show up at my house.