Doggone You, Mr. Poopy Pants!

Dang it if that little fancypants kinderdemon hasn't gone and done it again.

Today I walked into his classroom just to talk to the teacher. NOT TO STEAL ANY OF HIS TIME. He didn't know that, of course, and went into immediate Major Concern Mode that I was about to infiltrate the classroom and force them to do more of my tedious languagey things. Mr. Smarty is astute, though, and in the flash of an eye he quickly grokked onto a couple of important facts:

a) If the class is already working on something, perhaps there's a chance that Wicked will have to leave so as not to interrupt them. Idle hands are the devil's playground, you know, and it seems that the devil brings Miss Wicked with him when he comes. So he got busy, and but quick.

2) Miss Wicked is there to see one kid in particular. Even though I try really hard not to point out who that kid is or make her in any way identifiable to the other kids (except by gender, which I guess I just, um...did), he's figured it out. So if that kid's not there, maybe Miz Wick will just...go...away.

So here I am, walking into Mr. Poopy's classroom. Taking in my presence, he looks up at me, and in his best authoritative tone, says, "We're already doing our work." And he points to this strangely phallic-shaped drawing on his desk that he's busy coloring green. Well--phallis aside--I gave him a look that was all, I did not ask you, dude, and went exactly nowhere. The fact that his old world work ethic did not result in my immediate dismissal from the classroom did nothing to faze him, though. Nope, in an unusual display of adaptability, he went straight to Plan B. Looking me straight in the eye, he said:

"And Harriet's not here."

BAM! Shut down (again) by a 5-year-old! Except that I'm not there to see Harriet, he just doesn't know that. HA! Score one for Wicked! "Yeah," I say, "Well, I'm not here to see Harriet." I can see his tiny hobbit face scrunch up and I swear I hear him give a little harumph.

"Well," he smartly retorts, "we're busy." And he returns to his green penis picture.

I gave him my best whatevuh, talk to the hand look and then proceeded to wander the classroom aimlessly, knowing it would make him insane(r). Then, when he wasn't looking, I snuck out of the classroom so that he'd never really know for sure whether I was gone or not. And later, when I saw his class in the library, I went in there, too, just to swirl a little more worry around his tiny little world.

I'm winning. Oh, I AM winning.