I have found that sometimes the funniest moments in life come from the small fry in all our lives.  Whether the gems come from our own kids or others they can turn the dullest or most stressful moments in life around.  

I was reminded of this last week.  You see I work a lot with special needs children, particularly with the preschool set.  Now, if you have ever spent any time with pre-schoolers or special needs kids you know they say what they think.  Well one of my special little girl's has some behavioral problems and I believe in discipline for kids.  Therefore, we have developed a love-hate relationship.  I love her, she loves me, until I tell her she can't throw her PB&J sandwiches at my head at lunch.  Personally, when I am eating I don't like ducking sticky sandwiches.  She needless to say doesn't agree with me.  Hence, her name for me is Mean Mean. 

Now, not being one to miss an opportunity, or a good laugh I eagerly adopted my new title. You see I found that it not only was an appropriate title for me at school but for at home.  This realization came while cooking dinner, one night for my family.  I realized that my own children are convinced that I have a magic wand stuck up my backside.  I confess that I am magically constipated, and due to this serious condition "I am the meanest Mama, ever."  I can't make the rain go away, make 5 different play dates all at the same time, or let bad behavior go.  So with this new information I adopted my new title of Mean Mean with pride.

But the funny thing about kids is that while one child or a set of children find you just plain old mean others might see you as something else.  A few days later after I accepted my crown and spectre of Mean Mean a little boy in the same group added to my title.  The final piece of the title came from a little boy.  When myself and another  teacher were trying to distract him from throwing himself off the side of the slide we asked him what our names were.  He looked at the other teacher and with a big grin pointed to her and said her name was Jesus.  Both of us, while trying to keep straight faces, asked him again what her name was.  He promptly informed us that she was Jesus.  

We explained to him that her name wasn't Jesus but was Mrs. G and asked him what my name was.  Now about this time the little girl who calls me Mean Mean started yelling.  Mean Mean Mean Mean, the little boy looked at me pointed his finger at me and said Wicked.  At this point, you really have only one choice.  I took it as well as the other teachers on the playground begin to laugh.  After the laughter, I realized that my title was now complete and I proudly put on my robes as the new Queen of Mean and adopted the title of Mean Mean the Wicked.

But the main fly in the ointment is not the fact that my kids at school and home think that I am Mean Mean the Wicked it is that I am still magically constipated and I still don't like PB and J sandwiches thrown at me.  So if these are the things that make me Mean Mean I am proud of them and like most parents and teachers you honor the title.  Because, if you weren't doing your job right they wouldn't call you mean.

Lindy