I always love picking Peyton up from school. Her teachers tell me what a sweet, helpful girl she is. At parent-teacher conferences, I was told Peyton has some of the best handwriting in the class, and LOVES to learn. She called Peyton “a little sponge” who just absorbs everything around her.
Look how cute her handwriting is! She can spell out whole family’s name on her own, and her full name. This age is adorable.
Rewind with me to Wednesday, I went to pick Peyton up, and her teacher pulled me aside. I assumed Peyton had gotten hurt outside or something. When I saw how serious the teacher’s face was, I panicked. It was like that feeling of being called to the principal’s office in middle school. What on Earth could my sweet girl have done?!
Teacher: Peyton and her friends were writing inappropriate words on themselves in markers today…
My heart sunk, remembering the time I dropped the F-bomb when I spilled that yogurt the day before, or when I yelled at the dog for shitting on the carpet, I silently vowed to stop listening to the FLY station on SiriusXM. I managed to ask what word she was writing.
Me: She wrote “butt” on herself?
Teacher: Yes, on her hand. We washed it off.
Me: She wrote butt. On her hand.
So there you have it. I’m 90% sure she wasn’t the one who learned how to spell “butt”, but out of all the “inappropriate” words she could have written…I think I’m ok with “butt”!
And at least it wasn’t permanent marker 😉