Little kids are evil. They are. I think we all secretly know this, but everyone is too busy blabbering about how cute they are. Well, they're not. I hate to break it to you, but they are the best liars around. How do I know? Because once upon a time, before I developed a conscience fit to irritate a saint, I was a master child liar.
In my kindergarten class in Catholic* school, we had this white board. And man, that thing was god. Magic, I say. We worshiped that thing. It came with these super cool awesome markers that we could all smell when the teacher wrote, and we all wanted to use them. Desperately. Unfortunately, our teacher was the reasonable sort, and only let us use the markers on special occasions so we wouldn't wreak absolute havoc on the board. Smart lady, but not smart enough to outwit a determined demon child like myself.
One day, teacher was deciding who to let write on the white board and told us the first person to raise their hand would get the coveted marker for the day. My hand shot up in unison with that of the wheezing boy from across the room. I glared. Teacher looked back and forth. Me. Him. Me. Him. And she pointed....at HIM. I was outraged. Clearly I was more deserving, and I instantly came up with a plot to make the teacher regret her mistake. So I burst into tears.
At first, teacher seemed to think that I was just being a bad sport and ignored me. But as my sobbing intensified she started to believe something was really wrong. Perrrfect. Sorry lady, but my six year old brain didn't absorb your lessons about honesty and shit, and now you're playing right into my hands. I continued my best heartfelt cry until teacher gently called me aside to talk. As I snuffled and shuffled over to her, I flashed a victorious look at my baffled peers.
Teacher: Dia, what's wrong? Are you angry because I didn't let you write on the board?
Me: (As if I'd let you know my plan!) **sniff sniff, tear wipe** No.
Teacher: Are you sure?
Me: Yes-huff-huff-sss. (starting to cry again)
Teacher: (looking concerned. Ha HA!) Well what is it?
At this point I looked up with my big blue eyes and dropped the bomb that my brilliant mind had come up with.
Me: Well, it's my dad. He's in JAIL! (wail and crying some more)
Teacher: (shocked. Just as I planned) Oh Goodness! What happened?!
You should all know that my dad was a lawyer, and a well respected one at that, so the idea of him going to jail was preposterous. I can't believe this lady bought it.
Me: The JUDGE. He decided that he didn't like the guy my dad was defending and he sent him to JAIL! **sniffle sniffle** I don't know WHY!
Teacher: (concerned and trying to comfort me) I'm sorry dear.
Me: Me too. That's why I wanted to write on the board. I just wanted to feel better. (crying)
Teacher: Oh, honey! Of course you can write on the board!
BINGO. Evil child - 1, well meaning teacher - 0. Hell yes, I got to draw on that board for the rest of that whole damned day. As I left school, I counted the day as a win.
Of course, my concerned teacher felt the need to let the other teachers know about my family's predicament and warned them that they should be ready to comfort my older brother and sister. Like a champ, my brother GMK soaked up the attention and agreed with my story when his teacher pulled him aside to talk. I felt I did him a favor. But of course, no good deed goes unpunished.
When I got home, my mother was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. And I got a stern talk about lying to people about Daddy's job. But my small brain was unfazed, still high on the thrill of victory. Or maybe the marker smell.
:) I win.
*Yes, I went to Catholic school. It happens. Beat, but at least I never had to worry about what to wear to school.
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