The K
At the end of the day, Loudboy K would not help clean up. He had stacked all the empty playdoh cups and he was not about to give them to me. I asked politely a few times before prying them out of his hands.
He clenched his little fists and screamed at me, "You are BAD, Dr. H.!"
"No, I'm not. I'm good," I retorted, jamming germy playdoh into canisters.
The kid stomped off for about 30 seconds and then came back to join me.
"I'm helping now," he said, matter of factly.
"Thanks, pal," I said with encouragement, but the job was pretty much done and I wasn't in the least bit impressed.
Comments
That's so awesome.
I was going to blog about my insecurities about using the title , but then I decided to just get over it.
Will you please get home NOW???????????