Albert's Day of Infamy

WC 672




Yesterday was the worst day of my life. It was my first day of kindergarten and I was delighted to escape the company of a child sitter and the pap of TV’s Teletubbies and other kid shows.

Father said, “Kindergarten is like prep school for first grade. You’re going to love it.”

Mother said, “My precious, precocious gem, it’s okay to sparkle, but don’t make fun of lackluster children just because they can’t read and write, and don’t have college professors for parents. And remember to say ‘please and thank you.’

“Kindergarten is your first step toward advanced education. You’re going to love it.”

They were both right. Momma cried a little when she handed me over to Miss Shush, but they were tears of joy--- or perhaps relief.

Bubbling with excitement, I started my day. When I peed my pants, it turned into the worst day of my life.

It never would have happened if George DeWinnie hadn’t told a stupid ‘Knock knock’ joke during our milk and cookie break:

“Knock knock. Who’s there? Lucy. Lucy who? Lucy elastic makes your panties fall down.”

I thought it was funny, but what destroyed me was when Lucy Liberto laughed so hard she squirted her milk in George’s face.

Miss Shush had assigned us hand signals and numbers to use when we needed to be excused for the calls of nature: one finger was for wee, and two for poo.

I had no time to make a quick selection let alone a trip to the lavatory: I laughed so hard I wet my pants.

The stream cascaded over the edge of my little chair, gathered itself into a steaming pool under my desk, as though looking for a place to go, and then found a slope in the floor that helped it meander slowly and majestically to form a tiny moat around the pile of big wooden blocks in the play area.

Miss Shush and the class watched the slow motion event in awe.

I didn’t know a five-year-old’s bladder could hold that much liquid. The rest of the class was impressed, but not critical. Reverend Hoyt’s daughter, Martha, whose desk was next to mine whispered, ”It’s okay, that you tinkled, Albert, There but for the grace of God go I. “

Though it was too late, I gave Miss Shush the one finger signal. And then I realized I had my finger turned the wrong way. Miss Shush, who got her driver’s license in New Jersey, took offense to my gesture and assumed I was not only precocious but also a little smart ass.

Rats! I was not only embarrassed, and uncomfortable, but I made the teacher’s fecal roster on my first day. I pledged to myself that I would never again subject myself to such humiliation.

But that was yesterday. Kindergarten was exciting and I wanted to go back.
When Momma asked what I learned on my first day, I said, “Please pack an extra pair of underwear with my lunch.”

So I went back. In class today, I got redemption at another classmate’s expense. Benny Bruce, uncertain of Miss Shush’s signal system for vital functions, raised his hand and asked if she had a signal for “whizzpoppers.”

“No,” she said. “Just say excuse me.”

“Excuse me,” said Benny.

“Did you just expel flatus?” asked Miss Shush with a straight face.

“No,” George answered for him, “He just farted.”

The class squealed with laughter. Except for Jamie Smith. He was seized with a coughing spell, and like my unhappy incident of the day before, he had no time for hand signals. Just as the giggles and his coughing subsided, he did a loud number two.

His day of infamy had arrived. Mine was ancient history.

Oh yes, yesterday was indeed the worst day of my life. But today is the best day of the first day of the rest of my life. Now I can concentrate on kindergarten and higher education.