The year is 2018 and you’re a woman in her late 20s working at a popular daycare in a well known part of town. The daycare, which caters to infants and toddlers, has been a good fit for you as you have had practice with that age group and were thrilled to find a job in that field that was so nearby.

That’s right, just a short bus ride in an even shorter walk, you are able to reach your destination; and while it might not be the job of your dreams, it is damn near close. And sure, there is some of the staff you don’t get along with, they weren’t what was important. The kids, as they should be, Are your main focus, and you care for all of them in different ways. Though you do have your favorites, try as you might not to. Which brings us to the encounter you had this fateful summer’s day.

So let’s set the scene.

It was warm that day and as routine dictated, after nap time and snacks, it was time to take the children outside to burn off some energy before their parents begin to pick them up. You and two other teachers are stood vigilant at different points in the small and enclosed playground, ever watchful of your nine small charges. One of which, A little boy no older than a year and a half, you have just got done helping retrieve a toy for, when it happens. One of your favorites, a little boy by the name of Hank walk’s up behind you and proceeds to give you a pointed statement.

“Miss Amy, I don’t have a cock.”

Your body stiffens as your mind goes blank. Soon followed by a childish Giggle from the darkest corner of your mind. The deepest part of which hosts the cage in which you have forcibly caged your internal child while working.

Does. Not. Compute.

You take a steadying breath, reminding yourself sternly that he is a two-year-old with a speech impediment. And what you hear is not always what is meant. Repeatedly reminding yourself of this, as you begin what seems to be a daily affirmation of, “ I am an adult. I am an adult. I am an adult.”

Once satisfied that you have your affirmation lockdown, you inhale once more and turn around. You look down at Hanks, hopeful face, and ask him to repeat what he said; clearing your throat as. Your voice has advertently squeaked. Again satisfied, you try to ask him the question once more.

“ what was that, hank?”

He answers without skipping a beat.

“ I don’t have a cock.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

The giggling in your mind becomes louder as your daily affirmations become internal screams.

I AM AN ADULT!

You’re about to squeak out another question when he continues

“ see?” he says innocently as he points to his right hand. “ I don’t have a little cock in my hand.”

God I hope not. Your mind supplies immediately as the giggling of your internal child turns into manic howls of laughter.

You have lost track of your internal affirmation as you valantly try not to giggle aloud. your lips press together in a vain attempt to prevent laughter, as your eyes frantically search the playground for any clue as to what he might actually mean.

And that’s when you see it, and you nearly facepalm.

You’re literally standing next to a shelf, atop which, sits a bucket of chalk.

Chalk. Speech impediment. Lightbulb moment.

You’re an idiot, but you didn’t laugh, you tell yourself smugly as you hand Hank a piece of the chalk he had been asking for the entire time.

It’s days like this that truly make life worth living.