Toby got sent home today.
Not just for saying “big-ass rock,” but for telling all the other kids that, basically, they were all going to die because a “big-ass rock was going to hit them right on the head.”
According to my mom, this sent the whole room into hysteria, and everyone started crying. Including the teacher.
Then Toby started crying for making everyone cry, and because he thought he was in “big-ass trouble.”
He came home today and asked me about it.
“Sissy?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
I didn’t know what to tell him. I couldn’t be like “Nah, go tell everyone they’re going to die,” but at the same time I couldn’t say he did anything wrong, because he didn’t. There was no malice behind any of it.
“No, Toby. It’s fine. Just... Maybe don’t tell people about it? It worries them sometimes.”
“No one likes the big-ass rock?”
“No, no one likes the big-ass rock, Toby.”
“Does the big-ass rock have any friends?”
“No.”
He put his finger on his bottom lip again.
“Maybe it’s just coming to make friends with us! Maybe it’ll be our friend and we can raise it and play dress-up with the big-ass rock!”
I laughed, but felt some tears welling up.
“Yeah, yeah. Maybe we can.”
“Can I dress it up like... Like a ninja?"
“Yes, Toby. You can dress it up like a ninja.”