A few days ago, I helped my son bring our puppy (whose name, you may remember, is Friday) to his preschool class for show and tell. I was nervous about how it might all go down, given that Friday is barely four months old (and as a result can be counted on for unpredictable behavior like jumping on kids or leaving “surprises” around the house).
Thankfully, Friday was perfectly behaved. He was totally chill with all the preschoolers and couldn’t have been more of a delight. My son did a fabulous job of telling his friends about his dog. His classmates asked some good questions about life with a dog and gamely shared their own experiences with their pets. The whole thing was so precious that it helped relieve the sting of the 4:30 am wake ups we’ve experienced of late, thanks to the puppy’s early morning energy spurts.
But lest it all go too smoothly, at the end of his show and tell, my son’s teacher asked if he had anything else to tell the class about his dog. Without missing a beat, my son answered, “Sometimes he poops in our house.”
Touché. I couldn’t do anything but agree. And laugh (through the red that surely spread instantaneously across my face). Luckily, one of my son’s classmates raised her hand and mentioned that her dog did the same. I can’t remember the last time I felt so grateful for some empathetic sharing in an embarrassing moment. Even though it came from a three year old.