(And if you can’t read backwards, the words say “You Monster!”)
“You can wear that. I like cheese,” Tommy said cheerfully.
Thankfully we didn’t have to take Natalie with us since Tom got home in time. Natalie tends to get insulted whenever we go into Tommy’s classroom because she assumes she’ll also get a desk and a chair. She’ll shout, “Where’s MY chair? WHERE’S MY CHAIR?”
She’s also going through a shy phase. If an adult speaks to her, she’ll instantly cover her face because if she can’t see you, you don’t exist.
Weirdly, she’s not shy around other kids. No, with other kids she marches over and says, “Who you?” to the startled child.
Well, that night I wouldn’t have to worry about Natalie frightening the kids or dodging the adults because she was staying with her Daddy.
“Remember to cut up her hot dog and give her some ketchup,” I told Tom as I grabbed my purse.
Tom rolled his eyes. “You act as though I don’t know how to take care of my own kid.”
Well. Maybe so. But he once stayed home with Natalie and when I came home, the house reeked because Natalie had pooped and he had claimed not to smell it even though his eyes were watering. He says that changing poop diapers makes him gag. I always joke that he’ll risk his life for his country, but heaven forbid a poopy diaper comes at him. It just doesn’t make sense.
Anyhow, Tommy and I went to his school and found seats in the auditorium. The Principal was going to speak before we were able to go to the classrooms. I had sat through this same speech twice before. A lot of people don’t bother to show up until a half hour later when the classroom visits begin—I’d do this but then there is no parking which means you get to park on the dirt and get boxed in.
The thing is, I’m awful at backing out and if you park on the dirt, people practically park on top of you and I know I’d hit something.
So I always come early which means I get to sit through a speech about responsibility from the Principal. She started her speech and I started to find ways of entertaining myself. Sometimes I’ll play Count the Gymboree. This is when I take note of the kids wearing the clothes. I had spotted two and then, oh my God, a family with five kids walked in all clad in Gymboree! Do you want to be my friend? I wanted to call out to the woman.
When the Principal was done, we were able to go to the classrooms. As we walked down the hall, Tommy waved hello to a lot of people. He’s well known because he’s a great kid. And, okay, because in Kindergarten he totally screamed. I’m proud to say he does not do that anymore.
Thank goodness there were adult chairs set up in Tommy’s classroom. It’s a little uncomfortable when the miniature chairs are set up—I mean, I can’t get my entire butt on that thing! I get one ass cheek on and the other hangs off. It’s especially comical to watch tall men sit down on the tiny chairs—their knees are practically up to their cheeks.
“Big people chairs!” I blurted out as I settled down. The woman who sat down beside me raised an eyebrow. Apparently she’s never had the misfortune of sitting in a munchkin seat.
I learned all about the expectations of second grade. When the teacher went over the discipline method—it’s a traffic light and if a kid gets a warning, they go from green to yellow and if they are really naughty, they go to red. Tommy whispered to me, “I’ve only gotten green lights since school started.” He nodded his chin to another little boy sitting with his Mom. “That kid always gets red lights.” I pressed a finger to my lips and Tommy was all, “I was just SAYING…”
Tommy is doing well in school. I’ll find out more during the Parent/Teacher conferences next month but for now, there are no issues which is always a plus. In Kindergarten I dreaded the sound of the telephone ringing because it was usually always the school telling me that Tommy was crying again.
So far, so good…
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