Of Queens and Spanish speakers

I've been doing a lot of subbing at the elementary school level, and I've had many chances to go back to the preschool rooms I've enjoyed (at the military base and another one in town). Today I was back where I was around Christmas time. There's a little guy in the morning group (call him Q), not much taller than about 3 ft. 2inch. Around Xmas he and I took to dressing up from the closet of donated clothes that all could've been Demi Moore's red carpet outfits from 1984. I even found us a faux tiara at the reuse area at the dump and brought it in to compliment his favorite dress. So, now it's February and I'm back in this classroom and this little boy is STILL enjoying this one particular outfit with a fitted bodice and lace sleeves. (Remember, these are the sons of military men :!) Apparently, he still chooses the outfit every day. Today, though, right when three of these well-dressed little people began to argue about how many princesses a preschool was allowed to have, Mr. Q yelled "YOU'RE the princesses and I'm the QUEEN!" Mr. Q's speach teacher was standing in the doorway . . .rather than cause him great distress she just took him by the hand and walked through the school to the speach-therapy room with this little boy in a velvet dress and a plastic tiara. During speech they practiced the royal wave. He returned self-satisfied, having done well in his lesson, his tiara firmly planted on his little round head.

Of Spanish? I'll write about that tomorrow.