Little Peter tore down the hall of his preschool carrying his favorite blow up cutlass in his left hand because this morning, his right hand was sheathed in a brand new plastic hook.

“Arrr, good mornin’ Mrs. Katz.” He growled at his teacher.

“Good morning Peter. Oh my! What has happened to your hand this morning? Is it ok?”

“Aye. Me hand fell off. Twas was a small price t’ pay for t’ treaaye. I was lucky I didn’t end up in Davy Jones’ locker.”

Mrs. Katz eyes widened as the small boy disappeared into the classroom with his plastic hook and blow up cutlass. She would have to have a serious talk with his mother because his fantasies were starting to spiral out of control. Three weeks ago he marched into class convinced he was a police officer. Then, a week later, he moseyed into class as a cowboy—complete with handkerchief and spurs! Last week he bounded into class as an astronaut and insisted he couldn’t sit down because he was weightless.

Now he’s a pirate…which wouldn’t be so bad but just listen to him! We’ll be getting angry letters from parents wondering why their adorable four year old has started saying things like, “”I’ll send you t’ Davy Jones’ locker if your don’t give me t’ blocks!” or “Hand over your puddin’ you scurvy dog!”

“Momme!” Peter bellowed, running past Mrs. Katz.

Mrs. Katz pasted a smile on her face to greet Peter’s mom.

“Ahoy! Mrs Katz,” Peter’s mom said. “How be you this mornin’?”

This was going to be unpleasant.

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