First Grader (looks up at me and, completely unrelated to the topic at hand, says): Do you have a daughter?
Me: A daughter? No. Why do you ask that?
First Grader: I don't know. Do you have kids?
Me: No, not yet.
First Grader: You don't have kids yet? You mean you're not married!
All the other little faces at the table turn toward me and a chorus of "Mrs. One Good Egg, you're not married?" starts.
Me: Well, yes, I'm married. That's why I'm called Mrs.. I talk about Mr. One Good Egg all the time, remember.
First Grader (in a tone that could be characterized as disbelief): But you don't have kids, yet? How old are you then?
This is immediately followed by several guesses from the peanut gallery, some flattering, most not so flattering.
Me: Hey, hey, hey. Alright now, enough of that. Let's just get back to our writing, OK?
So even in the minds of my first graders I'm an old, married, childless failure. Fantastic!
*I should mention that I really do talk about my husband and the rest of my family all the time. You'd think if I had a kid that I might have mentioned him or her before now. It just goes to show how egocentric six-year olds can be that this little guy obviously never noticed. In spite of, or maybe because of, their egocentricity six-year olds are the coolest kids ever. And in spite of, or maybe because of, exchanges like the one above I do love my job.