Honeybunch!

When I have asked (Ethan/Alex/Evelyn- fill in the blank of the offending child) to do something repeatedly and I get no response, often on the third try I say, "Ethan, Honeybunch, I asked you to set the table/brush your teeth/put your dirty clothes in the laundry (pick one)."

I like the "honeybunch" line because in translation it's: "Ethan, I love you but you're driving me nuts when you don't listen. Get it in gear boy!" And in my head, I can be stern and unpleasant, but the words that come out of my mouth are sweet, sincere, loving even. It's perfect.

Until today. I think I committed a cardinal sin of 1st grade.

I called one of Ethan's classmates, "honeybunch."

Really, it was the very same scenerio. Me, helping, teaching, guiding the lovely children and Preston, socializing, discussing, not working, not paying attention. I asked him 3 times to focus and even had him change his seat away from his friend. The fourth time, it just came out.

"Preston, Honeybunch, I need you to do your work."

Well. Gales of laughter from the other boys at the table.
"Ethan's mom called you 'honeybunch.'"
"Ahh ha ha ha, I'm going to tell the whole class that Ethan's mom called you 'honeybunch.'"
"Ahh ha ha ha, I'm going to tell the whole school that you're a 'honeybunch.'"

Oh, Preston. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for mistaking you for one of my own. For possibly laying ruin the rest of your 1st grade recess time until the end of the year by calling you a goofy pet name. Trust me, I know that it will be long before you quit hearing about this one. But look on the bright side, it is almost summer, honeybunch.