“The monkeys told me I’d find you here, Tricia.”
“What? You’re insane! There are no monkeys here! Are there?”
“No, silly! I wasn’t talking about real monkeys! I was talking about your monkeys! You know, the kids?”
I never thought a kindergarten teacher could possibly be my bff. But that’s what Stacey is.
My two kids, Connor and Leean, both love Stacey. I don’t blame them. I mean, she’s probably the only person who could use any word in a sentence and make an entire classroom full of 5-year-olds and parents laugh.
Maybe not.
But she is still the best friend a girl could ever have. We met in college. Dorm mates and whatever. She majored in teaching with me in journalism. I’m a free-lance writer. We hated each others guts’ for some abnormal reason, until I posted this in one of my articles:
“Though I hate to admit it, Stacey is the most creative person I know…”
And, who knows why, that hit us off. We like all the same things, and we support each other.
After all, that’s what Monkey Friends do.