At least I have toes

I love children.  They are curious, honest (for the most part), and entertaining.  They really do "Say the Darndest Things."  I have three entertainers of my own, as well as teaching preschoolers and early elementary aged children.  I have become accustomed to the oddities that come out of my own children's mouths, but the stories I hear from other children often have me in stitches. Though in all honesty, when they speak I am speechless and sometimes afraid that the children around them will go home and remember the "colorful" parts of the class to their parents.
For example, in my preschool class I have the most adorable little girl who is the image of Emily Post as a child.  She is nearly always proper in speech and action.  I say nearly because one day when she was the only child in my class she began telling me about a time when she did not feel well.  I thought maybe upset stomach or cold and asked her what felt ill.  She excitedly went into great deal about her constipation and how she sat and sat and couldn't poop and how her tummy hurt because the poop was all up inside her.  Then her mommy had to take a bottle of water and squirt it up her bottom to help her wash out the poop, but it didn't work. So her daddy told her that if she would work really hard and poop, he would let her have lots of treats and stay up and watch her favorite cartoons instead of going to bed on time.  There were many other details, and in the end she pooped.
The most recent episode was earlier this week.  I was working with the early elementary age children and we were learning about how Jesus has authority and is a King.  During the craft time, the children made "jeweled scepters" and busily chattered as they often do when happily working. I was busy helping some of the children attach their handles to the scepters and let those who had finished color on the white board with erasable markers.  They were also busily chattering to each other about what they were drawing and I was only half listening to what they were saying until . . . "Look there's his weenie."  BING! BING! BING! Suddenly they had all my attention.  I looked at the white board and discovered an anatomically correct stick figure of a king at which the children were mischievously looking and giggling.  I promptly dropped the scepter on which I was working, grabbed the eraser and began, at the "weenie," erasing the board and announcing that coloring time was over.  I also informed the children of the proper terminology and said if they had more questions they could ask their mother or father to explain. I then closed the subject. Hopefully I don't have any parents reopening it with me during the next few weeks.
I know there are stories more colorful and exciting, but these two are at the forefront of my memory, being the most recent. I am not intimidated by such experiences, but in emboldened to go forth where many teachers have gone before, knowing that I will be kept on my toes.