Innocence of Learning

THE INNOCENCE OF LEARNING

by Bob French

Bill Frobisher came through the front door after an exhausting day at the office, reached down to his wife and kissed her lightly on the lips.

               “How was it today darling?”  The expression on his face told her everything. “Won’t be long.  Go and sit down a minute.”

               He put down his briefcase and threw his suit jacket over the banisters; went into the lounge and collapsed onto the sofa and casually thumbed through the day’s post.

               The noise of someone rushing down the stairs brought a smile to his tired face.  Frances rushed into the room, climbed up next to him and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

               “Hi Daddy, I had a great day at school today.”  He looked up from the bill for the gas and smiled at her.

               “And on your second day at Downhall Primary School, did you meet any new friends?”

               “Of course I did.  There was Mark and James and Amanda.  She is nice and lives down at the end of our street.  Mummy and I walked home with them.”

               “And what did you learn today?”  Showing an interest in his young daughter’s education.

               “Lots of things Daddy.”  She was about to launch into what she had learnt when a voice called from the kitchen.

                “Be ready in a few minutes.”  Without another work they both lept off the sofa and rushed toward the downstairs bathroom together, pushing, shoving and laughing at each other.  Hands washed they sat down to dinner.

               Frances started to talk about some of the things she had done in school that day, then suddenly stopped.   “Daddy, where does poo come from?”

               There was a pause as the question sunk in and her parents exchanged a wide-eyed look of disbelief.

               “Well dear. Um, who told you about poo?”

               “My teacher.”

               “Well you know when you eat something, the food goes into your tummy.  Well your tummy acts like a machine.  It takes all the goodness out of the food, then what is left over comes out of your bottom when you go to the toilet.”

               His wife looked at her daughter’s face seeing that she was struggling with the explanation.

               “The stuff that goes into the toilet we call poo.”

               Frances sat there wide-eyed and shocked. She stared at them both for about a minute or two, then turned to her father and asked.

               “So what about Piglet and Tigger?”

Copyright Bob French