Cubby

Cubby is seven. I'm trying to keep her entertained while she waits for her tutor at Youth Brigade, the learning center where I work. We are practicing our puppy-drawing techniques on a pile of Post-It notes and I tell Cubby we need to do that quietly because the student in the next room "is writing an essay and needs to concentrate because it's hard," which prompts the following conversation:

Cubby:   We did essay last week at my school.

Me:         Indeed?  What were you supposed to write about for your essays?

Cubby:   "What is the funnest place."

Me:         What is?

Cubby:   Zoo, California, Outer Space...
                Maybe Heaven.

Me:        Which did you choose for your topic?

Cubby:   Ummm- Heaven.  I would say essay is pretty hard, but it's not  the hardest thing.

Me:        What is the hardest thing?

Cubby:   Holding your breath under water for a hour.

Me:        Right.