Member-only story
HUMOR
My Toddler Nicknamed a Classmate, Now We Have to Move
Or get facelifts
“One, two, three, jump!” I said as I gripped my daughter’s hand.
She jumped, landing in the middle of the puddle, sending a wave of water up both of our legs.
It’s fine. I love looking like I’ve pissed myself.
“Oh, I thought we agreed you were going to jump over the puddle,” I said as I eyed up my newly mud-splattered jeans.
“No, thank you,” she replied sweetly, grinning to herself.
Feels like a plot.
“Can I play, Mummy?” She asked, pointing to the playground up ahead.
“Not this morning, Sweetie. It’s time for preschool,” I replied as we weaved in and out of other parents and children on the sidewalk.
“Pleeeaaase,” she whined as she slowed down and tried to release my hand.
I grasped her hand tighter.
“No, if you walk nicely we can play after I pick you up from preschool.”
Bribes are life.
She forced out her bottom lip and made whimpering noises as we strode past the gate to the playground, next to her preschool.
