Only the Bad Kids

I keep all kinds of small plastic people and a variety of small plastic animals In my room, along with three treasure chests, a little bit of sand, an island, and a Bunch of pre-Legos that can be built into houses and corrals and such. The best way to learn about a child, is to listen to his play talk. A six-year-old arrived this morning. I am a reward for him making good choices. I love that! So I congratulate him. He is beaming. So happy! I tie his shoes. They were dragging all the way down the hall. We talk about a grandma. He does not know if he has one. Begins to organize the people. Asks me where the jail is. I tell him I do not have one. He throws back his head and laughs as if this is hilarious. I watch as he organizes the creatures, and the little people. He is a pilot, he tells me, showing me a woman pilot. I look at the little doll with boobs, but keep quiet. Where is the jail? He asks me. If you want one, you will have to make it or decide, I tell him. He decides the smallest treasure chest is now a jail, and he throws six of the bad guys inside. I ask what they did, and he says, “Bad stuff!” Then he lines up the green geese. Two are smaller. These are the bad parrots, he informs me. The larger goose he brings next to them. This is their mommy, he tells me. She is frustrated. He picks them up and throws them into jail too. Why is she frustrated? I ask him. Who? The mommy. She is frustrated because they are bad kids he tells me.