In January, I volunteered to do a potsticker making demo in my oldest kid’s preschool class. After witnessing a group of twelve 4-year-olds make potstickers I’ve learned that an individual’s approach to dumpling making tells me a lot about their personality.

There were a few serious creatives in the room who took my instruction and casually decided umm yea…that’s not really going to work for me… I secretly love these students. They do whatever the EFF they want. They’re young enough that their imagination hasn’t been devalued or shamed out of them by the institution that is American schooling. I wanted to high five them and be their hype woman.  YES, that dough definitely looks like a spider web! YES, just keep your dough dinosaur! Put it in your pocket for later. Ooh YAS, you drip that top dough on top! Who needs to pinch it all together? Integrity of the potsticker is an illusion man. If it falls apart in the boil it’s most definitely what nature intended.

There were some standout rule followers who approached potsticker making with a thoughtful focus. They had a high-quality production rate and did not want to be swayed from the track they were on. It was full speed ahead and they remained at the table the longest. I bet they’ll achieve graduate degrees in tracked professions. These are the kids my family hoped I would be. I understand their drive, reliability, and the sense of comfort they feel staying within the lines. I appreciate these students.

There were also a few who clearly liked the idea of making potstickers more than the practice. Instead of pinching the dough together around the meat they’d just fold it over the top like they were tucking a little meat baby in bed. Goodnight sweet meat baby! I don’t want to get a finger cramp doing all that pinching. They were unapologetic about their disinterest in the work and quickly moved onto their actual interests. I appreciated that they actively chose to move along to something more interesting to them like superhero imaginary play and blocks.

Finally, there were the salespeople. They sold their skills by talking themselves up in a big way despite the low quality of their final product. “I’m so good at rolling!” “Look at mine!” “I’m doing a really great job!” Self-esteem: Check. Work ethic: Minimal. You cannot discount these personalities. They may make millions by doing the bare minimum or they may end up like Anna Delvey. Either way, the power of persuasion is important in adulthood. Sell it and sell it well!

My takeaway after observing my 4-year-old in his other environment is he’s actually cool…sometimes. He appears to save the whiniest most obstinate version of himself just for me. I watched him unpack his backpack and hang it in his cubby, line up his water bottle on the shelf, and place his morning snack in the class snack bowl. He was organized, kind, and quiet. Was this really my kid?!? My first feeling was pride. My second feeling was like I got ripped off. Why don’t I get this compliant, sharing, child who is contributing mature ideas AT HOME? At home he’s constantly challenging everything I say or do. Even when I say it nicely. Here’s an example:

“I think it’s going to be chilly today so make sure to bring your sweatshirt.”

“No, it’s not. It’s going to be hot.”

“Okay, well I don’t have time to drop off your jacket if you change your mind.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, maybe I do, but I don’t see any reason to have to if you just bring your jacket.”

“I DON’T FEEL COLD!”

“Open the door! Do you feel cold now?”

He opens door with a sour face. “No, I don’t feel cold.”

“Fine, freeze at school. You’ll live.”

“Can you go get my Spider Man jacket?”

“Sure.”

After doing quality control pinching and boiling up a few dozen, I brought the cooked potstickers back to the classroom for tasting. The kids liked them and I could see my kid was super proud his mom came into his little world and did something other than yell at him to stop kicking his little brother.

I packed up my stuff and felt warm and fuzzy leaving the school. Then Mila’s teacher popped his head out of the 2-year-old classroom and said, “Heeeeyy, you need to come into our room and do potsticker making.”

I took a deep breath and thought to myself, 2-year-olds?!? Ugh. I can barely handle my own two-year-old and we have a new one every year in our house. Two-year-olds are erratic little funnel clouds. Mine is currently all about screaming at her younger brother and blaming him for all the marker drawings on the floor and cabinets she did. She also has the attention span of an overly caffeinated gnat.

“Oh sure. Great. Um yea, no I think that would work. When works for your class schedule?” I replied to the teacher.

“Anytime you’re available we will make it work.” The teacher responded too quickly. I was trapped like a rat. I felt my heart rate increase.

I reluctantly chose a random weekday morning while slowly dying inside because what I really want to do is anything but this, AGAIN. After setting the date and almost making it to my minivan, I turned around to reschedule. It’d been 20 seconds and I already felt the impulse to reschedule. I rescheduled for two days later because I had extra meat filling that would last until then and save myself some work.

Two days went by way too fast. Larry that morning:

“Ready to wheel your food card down to preschool?”

“Laugh it up, Chuckles. This one should be fun… I cut down the volume because hashtag 2-year-olds.”

As fate would have it, the 2-year-olds surprised me in the best way. I judged them too harshly. I felt sorry my thoughts included that the best way to get back at an enemy was to drop a bunch of 2-year-olds at their front door.

It turned out they were better at rolling out circles than the 4-year-olds. Nobody really got the pinch it closed memo but that didn’t matter because what stuck out to me was the joy they experienced throughout the process and how they only existed in the moment.

They went to town rolling out circles and gave each other major ups while doing it. It sounded like this: Hey girl, that circle is good! Hey, I really like your circle! They were a small but mighty circle support group and I found myself wishing I had that kind of camraderie in my life just for making it through the morning. Hey girl, you unloaded that dishwasher with grace and ease. I really like the way you picked up dog poop in the yard this morning. Keep it up!

The 2-year-olds I had dreaded the most were joyful, encouraging and then all of a sudden… GONE. Their focused but short attention span was everything I never knew I wanted! After fifteen minutes of circles, I was back to boiling, serving and bounced out of there with an hour of free time for myself before having to get back to my other two kids.

At home we stick to our same script, and it feels like I’m repeating the same phrases from now until the end of time: Did you wipe your butt? Did you wipe it enough? Why is there poop on the toilet seat? Bring your plate to the sink, please. Pick up this toy before you move onto that one. Get your jammies. Get dressed. Get your shoes on. Brush your hair. We don’t hit in this house. What happened? The truth lies somewhere in the middle. Hug your sister. Stop hitting your sister. Hug your sister. Stop excluding your sister. Did you poop? Get over here so I can change your poop. Get your water bottle. Get your lovey. I’m not getting your lovey, that’s your responsibility. I’m not getting your water bottle, that’s your responsibility. Should we walk again? Who wants to go on another walk? Get your scooter. Get your helmet. You can’t wear Minnie high heels to school. No, you cannot wear that sweatshirt to school it’s dirty. We’re going to need to find a compromise…

I never anticipated that being a guest fish in my kids’ fishbowls would give me a different light to see my own kids in as well as a stronger appreciation for both age groups. In my own kids, I liked seeing how capable, creative, and confident they were away from me. I also got a kick out of their classmates swimming by with different opinions about, enthusiasm for, and approaches to problem solving. Then it dawned on me why the experience was better than anticipated…  I was not in charge of managing the fish!  As guest chef fish I could chill, observe, and fall into the flow of their day that was being managed by their incredibly patient teachers. I’d highly recommend being a guest fish in your kid’s fishbowl if given the opportunity. I’m now plotting how to be a guest fish at home.