and blinking, step into the sun

"Miss Stewart, is this personification?"
"Miss Steeeewart, why is Brian always mean to me?"
"Miss Stward, how do I block my phone number? I want to call my friends and talk in a creepy voice and hang up."
"Add me as a friend on Facebook!"
"Somebody made a mess on the floors in the bathroom."
"Miss Stewart...don't get mad...but do you have a boyfriend?"
"Evan scooped me!"
"What does "h-e-a-d-a-c-h-e mean?"
"Someone broke my eraser."
"Miss Stewart, someone wrote "sex" in this book!"
"Look, it's an ass. Donkey. Hahahhahahhaa!"
"Miss Stewart, am I invisible? Dylan says I'm invisible." (I ignored this:))
"Is the reason New York got its nickname because it's the second largest apple exporter in America?"

Those are some of the latest queries/comments thrown my way. (Many of them are recurring.) When imagining them spoken aloud, remember to get in a mental image of kids nudging, shaking, poking, and squeezing me. And as long as we're reliving these moments, go ahead and imagine my boss bringing in her tiny new pedigree puppy and letting it run madly around the room underneath everyone's feet, occasionally squealing an unearthly high pitched sound. Yeah, I definitely had thought she was on my side.

**

But of course, working at BCLC is not without its merits. 12-year-old Andrew is proof of this. Today he wrote an essay/autobiography from the point of view of his future, 25 year old self. It described his adult years – he had attended Yale and is currently making a ton of money off his manga comic company. He has decided that he wants to be a bachelor until he's at least 30, and has a dog to keep him company when he's lonely. He also has a team of exotic cartoonists working with him, including a 22-year-old French girl named Marie who seems promising.

I think he was concerned about my uncontrolled laughter (it was supposed to be a fairly serious project), but I couldn't help it.

When I made fun of "Marie" and asked if he'd even ever met a French person, he informed me that he had recently broken up with his French girlfriend. Andrew is 12. Surprised, I asked why they had broken up – he couldn't remember. This made me feel better (after my angsty conversation with a 16 year old a few days previously.)

6-year-old Katherine was doing her work next to us, and when she heard his girlfriend story, she started quietly chanting, "Andrew has a girlfriend. Andrew has a girlfriend," to which I joined in with a "Andrew likes giiiirls, Andrew likes giiiirls."

Andrew became flustered. "Had. I had a girlfriend," he insisted.

We kept chanting. (Yes, in my head I'm still in junior high.) He made some illogical comment about my maturity, which I ignored in favor of more chanting. I love my job because it makes me feel like Peter Pan.