Upon the conclusion of each day at preschool, the little ankle biters are each stamped on their hands. I don’t know why exactly. Afterall, we children of the 80s grew up in a world in which we were told not to color on ourselves. Oh, and DON’T wear snapbracelets unless you want to lose an eyeball or something, kids.
Later in life, my sister and I both opted to PERMANENTLY draw on ourselves with large-scale tattoos, but we were never so nervey as to Crayola the crap out of our forearms as youngsters. We were rule followers. OH YES, we were.
As we walked in the door at home, Lis tossed me her proposition for the afternoon. “Can we play stamps?” she asked.
“YES, that’s a great idea!” I chirped.
I set a basketful of rubber stamps on the kids’ craft table and followed it with a stack of craft paper. “No. I don’t need paper” Lis said, “We is going to stamp ON US.”
In an attempt to not leave work with a Curious George stamp on my esophagus this afternoon, I suggested that ink is for paper, not people. “But Teacher Carolyn puts stamps on me all da time” she protested.
Since I’m not one to argue with logic, I figured I’d allow her to stamp each of my hands and call it a day. What a rookie assumption that was. After seeing each of my hands stamped, I turned to Lis to say WOOPS, I’m out of hands! Time for that paper!
She stared at me in disgust, “Roll your sleeves up” she commanded.
Bossy little thing, that one is.
I obliged. Because it’s my last week here and also, because I’m the Greatest Nanny to Ever Live. In The Whole Wide World. And once each of my forearms was covered, I again attempted to terminate her body stamping efforts. But since she’s a chip right off of the ole’ NaNa block, she refused to accept defeat, unbuttoning my blouse before I could even try to reach for that stupid craft paper.
She stamped a 4″ long string of Valentine’s Day hearts, “right above your moobs, MAY-GIN.” I giggled a little and went to check the mirror. “JUST LIKE A NECKWISS” she said.
I’ll have to put a memo in to The Boy to thank my 4 year old counterpart, for now he is off the hook for buying that beautiful amethyst necklace I was so emphatically wishing for come my birthday.
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By Velvet S.