Playground duty can be tedious and neverending, the 15 minutes stretching into eternity as swarms of kids holler and whoop around you louder than wild monkeys. But then a little girl with endearing pigtails and sticky fingers will skip along with a sunny smile...
"Miss Hester, Miss Hester!!! How old are you?!!!?" The exclamations audible in the excited speech.
"Hmm. How old are _you_?" Question asked with a quizzical pose.
"I am SEVEN years old!" Shouted jubilantly with a little bounce to accentuate.
"Seven years old!!! Me too! I'm seven years old too!" Paired with an incredulous expression.
"NOOOO! You're not seven years old!" Giggles galore.
"How old is Miss Hester?"
"Uhhh... one hundred years old!" Giggles escalating.
"One hundred? Oh no!"
"Yes! Miss Hester is one hundred!" She takes my hand.
"Miss Hester is old." And a sad little frown.
"You are beautiful! I love you!" Swings our joined hands.
"Thank you." With a little bow.
"You're welcome." And then off she runs after giving me a half eaten gummy.
Sometimes you gotta love your job.
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