Yesterday, when Zeca got home from school, I asked her how her day had gone and she gave me a serious stare and began shaking her head as she unpacked her lunchbox. I waited for a few moments and she finally said, "I had a bad day." I'd already gotten a call from Miguel's teacher on Monday so I wasn't sure I could take any more "bad days". I took a deep breath and gave her the look that said, "Go on...I'm ready and I'll try not to yell."
Zeca: Well, Rebecca will be visiting my class tomorrow.
Zeca: Mom! REBECCA. Don't you remember? She beat me up last year* and made fun of me having two moms.
Me: Oh yeah, I remember her. You are an elementary kid now and she is still a kindergartner. She won't do anything to you so just ignore her.
Zeca: It's worse now!
Me: How can it possibly be worse? You're not even in the same class.
Zeca: Now, she thinks I'm a boy and tries to kiss me all the time.
And then I laughed so hard that I had to hold on to the counter to keep from collapsing in a heap on the floor! It's true that Zeca was all flowing hair and skirts and pastels last year and now she has short hair and wears plaid shorts and polo shirts but still. I wanted to say, "Oh honey, if Rebecca can't tell that you are the same person, she's too dumb to be a threat." But I didn't. Because I'm nice...and because I'm a parent and can't say such things out loud.
Me: Maybe you should tell her who you are. Maybe she's changed.
Zeca: She still likes princesses! She thinks she's Rapunzel or Cinderella or something.
Me: Maybe she thinks you're a prince
Zeca: I'm not a prince, mom.
Me: Sorry. I thought you might identify more with princes than princesses.
She rolled her eyes at me and said, "Obviously I would be the king."
*Note: Rebecca didn't beat her up. She pushed her.