I am tired of referring to my daughters as Thing 1 and Thing 2. It doesn't flow. So I will henceforth refer to them by their middle names. Maybe someday my cyber-paranoia will dissipate and I can refer to them by the beautiful names I bestowed upon them at birth. But for now, their middle names, given for beloved family members, will do quite well. So, the-child-formerly-known-as-Thing-1, the older one, will be Ruth, or actually, Ruthie...it's cuter. And Thing 2 is now Helen.
So, anyway, Ruthie starts preschool in about ten days. the teacher we met last year has since retired. She had an uncommon name, somewhat difficult for little kids to pronounce, so she was referred to as Mrs. K. All spring and summer we have been talking about Mrs. K. I call the preschool with a question in early September and am informed that Mrs. K retired. I am given the name of the new teacher, which I guess I didn't catch, and I speak to her briefly. Seems perfectly pleasant. A couple of weeks later, we get our confirmation letter with the official school start date, and the name at the bottom catches my eye, and as the voice in my head reads it, it catches my ear as well. Her name is Mrs. Seaman. Close your eyes, say her name, and you will know. I am cursed with a gutter brain, as is my husband. So why, for the love of God, does our kid get a preschool teacher whose name is a homophone for male ejaculate? Is this my punishment for teaching her the words penis and vagina? It isn't enough that Ruthie randomly bursts out with unprovoked phrases such as "I have a vagina...Daddy doesn't." Now she will add semen to her vocabulary. Or Seaman. Please, God, please, let them call her Mrs. S!!