At recess, one of B's electrons is hovering around him, being a minor nuisance. She folds his orange safety vest over his face, masking his scrubby facial hair (that he claims is a "product of many years of successful breeding.")
B has this terrible habit of mock-interpreting things people say in hilarious fashions, bringing a sliver of joy to my afternoon duty.
Today's example:
Me: Ahh, B. Your whole beard is now nicely day-glo.
B: Don't call me a dago.
No comments:
Post a Comment