So you’re the new kid, huh? You look like you were born yesterday. What are you, five? I remember when I was five. What a time! Of course, that feels like a lifetime ago now. I’ll be turning five-and-a-half soon. That’s almost six. Next thing I know, I’ll be eight! Or is it seven? Anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard but I’m Kevin. Do you like Starburst? I do. The pink ones are the best. Go ahead, take one.
So, word on the jungle gym is that you want some crayons. That’s tough. Crayons are harder to find than green caterpillars. They somehow keep disappearing from our cubbies and Mrs. Bundy’s desk. Lucky for you, I happen to have a gazillion extra crayons. That’s more than I know how to count, which means it’s at least six. I can let you borrow some but first we need to talk, first-grader to first-grader.
Count my fingers. You’ve been in our class for this many days now, but you never once tried to be my friend or bathroom buddy. You never share your Lunchables with me and you never pick me in Duck, Duck, Goose, yet you come to me asking for crayons? Imagine if Billy ate all of his Fruit by the Foot. All of it. The whole foot. And then he turned around and asked you for yours. How would you feel?
Not good, right? Normally I’d have the boys give you an Indian burn and take your applesauce. But there’s something I like about you, kid. You seem like the kind of boy that doesn’t ask for permission before playing with Mommy’s iPhone. We could use a boy like you. So I’m gonna give you some crayons because we’re friends now, okay? And friends help friends.
Go on, open the box. See how it says “Albert” on the inside? That’s because it used to belong to Albert. He was brave, kind of like you. Then one day, Albert decided that he’d rather be friends with Mrs. Bundy. You know what that made him? A tattletale. And I hate tattletales even more than I hate naps. And girls. Ew, girls! So now the whole class thinks Albert has cooties and his only friend is Mrs. Bundy. Sad, right? You don’t want to become like Albert.
So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to hold onto all of my extra crayons for me. Go ahead and hide them somewhere. Maybe at the bottom of your backpack. Or in your lunchbox. Somewhere Mrs. Bundy won’t look. Because remember, friends help friends. Besides, it’d be a real shame if something were to happen to you the next time the floor turns into lava.
I’m sure it won’t come to that. You’re a smart boy. Now I apologize, but you’ll have to excuse me. It’s almost nap time and I have a meeting to attend with my top associates, the Hatchimals.
