On Monday morning, my daughter, age 5, allowed her big brother to take her new Sandy Cheeks eraser to school to show his friends.
On Monday afternoon, after being picked up from school, my son reported that the Sandy eraser was now in the “June Box”.
“What’s the June Box?” I asked.
“It’s this box that if something goes in there, you don’t see it until June.”
What?
“Well, Anonymous was playing with it,” he said dramatically, “and Mrs. Teacher saw it and told him to stop and he didn’t and now it’s in the June Box.”
At this point, I start berating my son just as my daughter understands that June means a long time from now and starts crying.
I berate my son some more, over the cacophony of tears, and then propose a solution. We will tell Mrs. Teacher that the Sandy eraser is his little sister’s, while not making excuses for why it ended up in the June Box. In exchange for his little sister’s eraser, my son will supply one of his favorite erasers to take up residence in the June Box.
Yeah, that’ll work. It’s like when Belle substituted herself for her father, Maurice, in the Beast’s dungeon in Beauty in the Beast. Mrs. Teacher has a boy and a girl herself. Surely she’ll understand when she learns that she’s holding a 5-year-old’s eraser hostage. And my son will get something he loves locked away as due punishment.
Tuesday morning before I leave for work I call and leave a message for the teacher. “That Sandy Squirrel eraser…It’s his little sister’s…She’s been crying…I’m sorry for what he did, and I’m not excusing his behavior… he’s going to give you one of his favorite erasers instead…Blah, blah…I know I’m insane. Thank you very much…Blah, Blah.”
So, dear readers, what do you think happened?
NOTHING.
Tuesday night Will reported that Mrs. Teacher would not do the exchange.
I would have appreciated a phone call on that decision, Mrs. Teacher! I’m not making excuses for whatever my son and his friends did to get the Sandy eraser confiscated, but I’ve got a little 5-year-old girl who was very mature to let her brother borrow that silly eraser and now you’re punishing her. Really? REALLY?
Am I being unreasonable?
FREE SANDY!
I’ll say it again.
FREE SANDY!








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