Self-Conscious
I was reading a story to Kindergartners the other day. A very cute story about a fish, when a little boy sitting on the floor in front of me interrupted me to say, "What is that brown stuff on you?"
I tried to ignore him and kept on reading.
"Miss Jane? What is that brown stuff all over you?"
Maybe it was the all over part that got me, but I grew concerned. And tried to figure out how I could see my reflection in a room without mirrors. The little fish in our story was going to have to wait. This matter needed clearing up and quickly.
"What stuff?" I asked nervously, looking at my shirt and capri's for any sign of something amiss.
"THAT stuff" he replied, pointing at me.
I gave him a very questioning, concerned look at which point he stood up and touched my arm.
"Oh, that. Those are FRECKLES."
Apparently learning about freckles is not a part of Kindergarten curriculum.
I tried to ignore him and kept on reading.
"Miss Jane? What is that brown stuff all over you?"
Maybe it was the all over part that got me, but I grew concerned. And tried to figure out how I could see my reflection in a room without mirrors. The little fish in our story was going to have to wait. This matter needed clearing up and quickly.
"What stuff?" I asked nervously, looking at my shirt and capri's for any sign of something amiss.
"THAT stuff" he replied, pointing at me.
I gave him a very questioning, concerned look at which point he stood up and touched my arm.
"Oh, that. Those are FRECKLES."
Apparently learning about freckles is not a part of Kindergarten curriculum.
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