Higher Education

On the way home from Stinkerbelle’s swimming class today:

S: Mum? Is that Maya’s school over there? (Maya is That Girl’s babysitter, and at 14, the oldest kid she knows in town.)
M: No, honey, that’s the university. Maya’s too young to go there. She goes to high school.
S: Oh. It’s a you-ni-ner-sit-tee?
M: Yep, it’s the University of Guelph. That’s where bigger kids, older than Maya, go to school.
S: Can I go to the you-ni-ner-sit-tee Guelph when I am a bigger girl?
M: Sure you can, honey. If you work hard, and listen to your teachers, and practice all your numbers and letters, maybe one day you can go to a university.
S: I will. I will work really hard. I want to go there. And then when I go there, I will see all my friends, and we will do letters, and have a snack, and go to the gym and RUN AND RUN AND RUN, and sing the goodbye song.
M: Well, fantastic! That sounds like it will be lots of fun.

And, I thought wistfully to myself, not too far off my experience of the first two years of university. If you didn’t count the being drunk a lot of the time, dancing, and sleeping-through-classes bits.