I’m removing my makeup in the bathroom at the end of the day. Denny comes and tells me about the plush dog he got for Christmas from one of his preschools and which he now uses in his class.
“I hold the dog like this,” he demonstrates with his hand and the imaginary dog. “And I say, ‘Puppy, you’re going to be good and listen today, right?’ And the dog nods it’s head. ‘And you’re not going to bite me are you?’ And the dog shakes his head, like this. I explain to the children that puppies are just little and they can’t always control themselves. ‘So you’re just going to sit quietly and listen.’ And the dog nods it’s head and then it bites my thumb and I say, ‘Ouch!’ And the children laugh and laugh. They think it’s so funny. The dog is their favorite toy right now. They ask for it each week when I come.”
“You’re so good. You should have your own TV show. You’d be better than Mr. Rogers.”
Denny always watched Mr. Rogers as a child. Batman and Spiderman were too violent.
Denny goes into the living room and starts to learn a song about driving a car, that also requires motor noises. “The kids will love this,” he tells me, as I come into the room. “Even the little babies know how to brrrr brrrr. It will probably drive their parents crazy during the week, though,” he looks delighted.
“Maybe you shouldn’t teach it then,” I’m not really serious, but I pretend to be.
“Oh, no. That doesn’t bother me,” Denny says gleefully.
He picks up the ukulele and plays it again.