Yesterday I asked Vivienne if a certain little boy was in her new class at her new school.
“Vivienne, do you have a ‘Burt Reynolds*’ in your class?” (*The kid’s name is not Burt Reynolds – but it would be cool if it was.)
Her response, “Yes. I do. And he wasn’t nice, Mama. He dropped something and then he hit me and then I picked it up and then he dropped it and then he hit me and then…”
First of all – Vivienne is one
big little run-on sentence and secondly, I can guarantee that Burt Reynolds did not hit her.
None of that happened.
So I say to my little storyteller, “Vivienne, it’s ok to pretend, but you need to tell people when you’re pretending.”
I totally know that she’s going to go to school and tell her teacher that her Mom dropped something and then hit her and then dropped it again and then hit her again. I mean, if she’ll say it about Burt Reynolds, I suspect she’ll say it about me.
Never trust a three-year-old.