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what happened
A kindergarten student is not usually sent to my office.
I am the counselor, who gets my shares of stirrers.
Usually when a five-year-old is sent to me, they are crying.
This little blonde blue-eyed beauty was not crying.
She had a smug look on her face, actually not a tear in sight.
Find out what happened, the principal said, before she left.
What happened? I asked the dainty cherub.
When?
I am not sure “just now?”
Nothing.
I have to call the teacher to get an inkling.
She was fighting.
You mean arguing?
No I mean flat out fist walloping pummeling fighting.
I look for scratches or bruises but see no evidence.
Were you in a fight?
She nods her head.
I smashed them and bashed him, she told me.
She had a pleased smile.
I am surprised, but not stunned.
I have raised three daughters.
Two of them are tough.
She brags about her fighting prowess.
I find out later this little darling has four older brothers.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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