Girl and the secret world of crossing guards

Girl and I go up to Boy’s school twice a day, when we drop him off in the mornings and pick him up again in the afternoons, so as far as she’s concerned, the crossing guard is always monitoring the intersection at the school car park.  The first time it snowed this past winter, on a Sunday morning, we took her out for a walk, and our route ended up taking us to the school.  She expressed confusion and dismay that the crossing guard wasn’t there.

She had the same reaction this past Friday when we went up there around lunchtime, to eat lunch with Boy on his birthday.  “Hey!” she exclaimed as we crossed the deserted intersection onto school grounds.  “Where’d the crossing guard go?”

“It’s not time for the crossing guard to be here,” I said.  “Probably she went home.”

“Yeah!” she agreed.  (She’s in the habit, if you provide her with information, of acting like she is the one informing you.)  “She’s at home with all the other crossing guards!”

Then this morning, we had two crossing guards at the school entrance–one standing on the corner, supervising, while a trainee directed traffic from the centre of the intersection.  Some time after we dropped Boy off and returned home, Girl came up to me.  “There were two crossing guards today,” she told me.  “They love each other!  And they’re girls!”

I gently corrected both of these assumptions.  (The trainee crossing guard had, in fact, been a dude.)  A short time later, Girl came up to me again.

“There were two crossing guards!  One’s a girl, and one’s a boy.  They’re friends.  Just like Mum and Dad.  And they have baby crossing guards!”

I

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