Billie: “That boy right there is the one who keeps knocking my blocks down.”
Me: “Really? I’m so sorry, Billie. That must be frustrating.”
Billie: “Really frustrating. I build and build and he just knocks my stuff down. I ask him to play but he just pushes my buildings over.”
Me: “Sometimes, when people destroy our buildings they actually help us see the flaws in our design. So that, next time, we can build something even stronger.”
Billie: “Like the pigs and the big bad wolf?”
Me: “Exactly like that.”
Billie: “So, then, I can build something so strong his tiny muscles can’t even touch!”
Billie: “But also- he kinda did a mean thing.”
Me: “Oh, yea, dude. That was a totally mean thing to do.”
Me: “Yes, love?”
Billie: “Didn’t the big bad wolf fall into a fire place and catch fire?”
Me: “Billie. You cannot set someone on fire because they knocked your blocks down.”
Billie: “Ok. Just checking.”
Billie: “I get nervous. And that means sometimes I start to feel light. Like, all of my emotions are just so big. They are bigger than me and heavier than me. & I feel really light. And every emotion and every memory ever comes into my brain and I float away with them. That’s what I mean when I say I’m getting nervous.”
I’m not going to lie. This was ridiculously fun to make.
Flashback: July 28, 2013
Billie: Momma! I got jokes!
Me: Oh, yea? Let’s hear one.
Billie: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Me: I don’t know, why?
Billie: Because he knows I’m telling a joke!
Me: Wait- what?
Me: That’s a very interesting–
Billie: And then the cat crossed the road and the chicken said, “whatchoo doin’, cat? GET OUT OF MY JOKE!”
…Five minutes later and this joke is still going. Plus side? This is the most self aware joke I’ve heard in a while.
I’ve been super sick today. I barely had enough in me to get Billie from school. When I got there, I was met by her teacher, her face stern.
“Today was career day and all the students were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. Billie said she wanted to be a kitty cat. I told her that she couldn’t be a cat and she needed to pick a different profession. Do you know what she told me?”
“No,” I responded. I barely had enough energy to stand let alone continue this conversation.
“She told me-” the teacher stops herself short, deciding instead to make Billie take accountability for her reactions, “Billie? Billie tell your mother what you said.”
Billie looked at me very carefully, “I told her…” she continued staring at me like she was steeling herself for the worst, “I told her fine. Then I would just become a teacher so I can tell everyone what to do with their lives.”
And I laughed.
I laughed so hard.
Needless to say it was not the reaction the teacher was looking for.