The names that the kids have come up with for their teddy bears have always astounded me. For example, a couple years back, C named his favorite bear “Big Schenckle.” I have no idea where that comes from. I’ve asked him a couple of times, only to be told (rather indignantly) that that is the bear’s name.

This past year saw a lot of stress for C. He was in Pre-K and his classmates had varying amounts of personal character. Some of them, in fact, were downright mean. I could rant for a while about that, but I won’t.

Suffice it to say that there were a fair number of times when C went to bed still trying to figure out the problems of the day. On one such evening, as I was putting him to bed, I asked who he played with. It flipped a switch. He talked very intently about the girl he played with and what they played. His tone didn’t match his talk. If I typed the words here, you would read them and think he had had a good day. Had you listened to his tone, however, you would think he was discussing his worst enemy.

Finally, after he had wound down, I handed him his teddy bear and tucked him in. As he took the bear, he smiled and said. “Big Schenckle! That’s right! My Schenckle is bigger than hers! Did you know that, daddy? My Schenckle is bigger than hers!”

No doubt. I agreed with him and he settled back for bed.

I can’t help but wonder what sort of playground conversation that led to on the next day, but I never found out.