"We've had a little situation arise with Santiago," they said.
"What happened?" I said, but really meant What did he do now?
"Well," they continued, "he seems to be having some difficulty with naptime in general, but yesterday [big sigh] he...well..."
"Yes?" I prod, certain that he must've run screaming through the school at naptime, or that he put his underwear on his head, or something pretty devastating from the look on their faces.
"Well, he took apart his cot."
So, I talked to him, yet again, about the importance of his naps and how grumpy he tends to get without them, etc., but waited until Mommy got home so that we could address his deconstruction of furniture.
As he began to explain to us exactly what happened, he was most upset by the fact that he had not completed his task successfully than by the fact that he'd gotten in trouble.
"So, why were you messing with the bed, son?"
"The screws were loose," he said.
"But you knew you were going to get in trouble, didn't you? Why didn't you just tell one of your teachers?"
"Well," he said, "I was trying to put it back together."
"But," he continued, "I kept trying to put the big screw into the little hole."
And now thoroughly disappointed in himself, "And the only reason I got in trouble was that I just didn't figure out in time about the little screw in the little hole before they came back in."
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