Tag Archives: preschoolers say the darndest things

Job Description

11 Sep

My job, according to a preschooler today: “The one who brings funny things.” That’s about right.

Same class:

Preschooler: “Miss Mary, I have new pants!”


Someday, My Prince Will Come…to Storytime

22 Feb

I had my frog puppet, Freddy, with me at storytime yesterday. That’s probably why a preschooler felt the need to ask me this:

“Have you ever been kissed by a frog?”

Uh…shouldn’t that be the other way around?


This is not a Lionel Richie song.

15 Feb

Today’s edition of “things preschoolers say”:

I had just arrived at a school. The kids saw me from a distance and one said “it’s Miss Mary!”

A young lady immediately responded with “that’s not Miss Mary, that’s a lady.”

Presented without comment.

What time is it? It’s STORYTIME! Plus, the Littlest Translator

13 Dec

Two “amusing anecdotes” (as my father would say) today:

A little girl was looking at her new pink watch and whispering to a friend. The teacher tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention and quiet her down. The girl looked at me, and I asked her what time it was. “It’s storytime!” she chirped.

Don’t we all need a watch like that?

A little boy was jabbering in Spanish, telling me something about the “noche” (I’m fluent, but he was talking so fast I didn’t get it all). Another little boy looked at me and said: “Asi se dice night.” [that’s how you say night]. Thanks, buddy, for the translation! And good on you for being bilingual!

I got the best card from one of my classes today, with a picture of all the kids and their signatures. Things like that I always treasure. I work with some fabulous teachers, and the students they teach are a delight.


On Today’s Episode of Conversations With Preschoolers…

21 Nov

I bring you: these two interesting exchanges I had with a couple of boys this morning:

Boy #1 (pointing to my hand): “What’s that?”

Me: “Uh…my hand?”

Boy #1: “Why do you have it?”

Me: “Because…it grew there?”

And later…

Boy #2 (upon entering the classroom after outside time): “Welcome to our school, Miss Mary!”

Me: “Thank you! That was a very nice thing to say!”

Boy #2 follows up this pleasantry with: “I was being bad outside. I was wrestling.”

Me: “Oh, that makes me sad.”

I guess I bring out the confessional urge in people…


Dinosaurs and Teddy Bears; Plus, It Starts Early.

18 Oct

It’s been a while since I posted any stories about things the preschoolers have done/said! Well, that changes TODAY (mostly because today I a) have some stories to tell and b) can remember them):

We were reading How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight, and were on the last page where there’s a picture of a dinosaur snuggling with his teddy bear in bed.

This picture has nothing to do with anything. But there's a dinosaur!

Me: “what does he have?”

Kids: “a teddy bear!”

One particular girl: “I was in the jungle when I was little.”

Me: (usual response) “Oh?”

Girl: “And then I didn’t want my teddy bear any more so I gave it to a dinosaur.”

Seems like a good solution. Lucky dinosaur.

Yesterday, this little vignette took place, which cracked me up for a few moments. I had to put my face behind the book to regain my composure:

The scene: little boy, wearing an orange baseball cap, is sitting in front of another little boy. The boy in the back surreptitiously reaches around and pokes the bill of the orange hat, just enough to make it move. Boy wearing the hat feels this, but does not know who does it. Boy in baseball cap looks around at the boy behind, who, looking innocent, immediately points at the girl next to him.

It starts early.


Um, Why Do You Ask?

8 Sep

Yesterday, while participating in an animal sounds storytime, a child began asking me a series of questions that continued to escalate:

Question 1: “Do ducks bite?”

My answer: “I don’t know, but we don’t really get close to wild animals.”

After a bit, we had Question 2: “Do cows bite?”

My answer: “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

And later on, close to the end of storytime: “Do tigers live in New York?”

WINNER! My answer: “Only in zoos. Tigers mostly live in Asia, which is far away.”

I’m not sure if this little guy is taking a trip to New York and got concerned about encountering a tiger on the street, or if he’d recently heard something about New York (we WERE talking about tigers). But what he followed this question up with was a complete surprise:

Statement 1: “My daddy shot an alligator.”

My response: “…………..”


Spring smells like…

18 May

Yesterday we read Will Hillenbrand’s Spring Is Here.  It was a nice day, and the kids were playing outside when I arrived, so we had storytime on the lawn.

On one page Mole sticks his nose out the window and sniffs to check if Spring has arrived. I asked the kids what they thought spring smelled like.

“To me, it smells like grass,” I said, as the distinct smell of fresh mown grass was in the air.

One young man contributed this: “It smells like a good day.”

I think he’s right. Spring smells like a good day.

It just keeps growing…and growing…and growing…

17 May

I had this conversation with a young man this past week:

“I’m gonna be big soon,” he said.

Thinking he was talking about turning 5 (which is “big” in preschool years), I asked, “oh? When will you be big?”

“When my brain grows,” he replied.

I hope your brain never stops growing.

Inside Of a Bear, It’s Too Dark To Read*

4 May

Today we were reading A Pet For Petunia by Paul Schmid, one of my new favorite books.

Skunks are AWESOME!

Petunia wants, WANTS, WANTS a pet skunk, and is completely indignant when her parents say no. There’s a page-long rant by Petunia that’s great fun to read aloud (and had the kids and teachers laughing). After her rant, Petunia decides to run away to the forest, where, in all likelyhood, she’ll be eaten by a bear. THEN, she declares, her parents will let her have a skunk.

I asked the preschoolers: “Will she be able to have a skunk after she’s eaten by a bear?”

“No,” said one young lady.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because you can’t get out of a bear.”

Wise words…

*with apologies to Groucho Marx.

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