First Day of Junior Kindergarten…

Some of you have been asking, so I’ll give you a short little commercial-free episode featuring Little Man’s first day of school. Keep in mind that he has been to this same preschool before. He just has a different teacher and will be with some different kids. We kept it all as “the same” as possible, based on the OT’s recommendations.

8am, at home:

Kia: Come on, bud. Time to get dressed for school. Come and get your cute, er, cool  little butTOCKS in these undies, Star Fighter.

Little Man (his face falls as he realizes that I really do mean to take him to school today, against his wishes): But. Mommy. I. I. I. Can’t go to school today. My belly hurts. And my back.

Kia: Sorry Coolio, but you really do have to go to school. It’s the law. (Ok, it’s not really  the law. But he doesn’t know that. Or does he?)

(I really do have a lot of cheesy, stupid nicknames for my kid, don’t I? It’s a good thing he’s bright or he might not even know what his real name is.)

Little Man: I guess I’ll go. Hmph. But I’m not going to have fun.

Kia: Yes you are. You’re going to have lots of fun. I’m sure Miss Mopey (no, we don’t really call her that) has lots of fun things planned for you today. You’re going to have fun. You’re going to smile and laugh and tell me when I pick you up that you were glad I made you go to school. You’ll see. (Poking his cute little tummy.)

Little Man: No. I. Won’t.

Yadda yadda yadda, blah, blah, blah, we drive to school and clump our sullen feet into the school building and down the hall to Little Man’s classroom. To give her credit, Miss Mopey seemed somewhat happy to see us and she got down on his level to say good morning to him. Little Man clung to my waist (Yes, I’m short. So what?) and refused to actually cross the threshold into the black hole known as the KindergarTen Room (See below for explanation of the capital “T”. You’re gonna Luuuurrrrvvv it!).

Kia: Come on, bud. In you go. Give me a kiss and go find something to play with. Look! Miss Mopey has magnets! And seashells! And crafty shit stuff! You’re going to have soooo much fun. (Overdo it much, Kia? Holy feck.)

Little Man: No. I. Won’t.

Kia: (Yippee! This is fun!) Hey, look, babe: J has arrived. You remember J from last year, right? Why don’t you find something that you and J can play with together? (Feckity feck, J’s got the death-grip on her mom’s ass too. C’mon, J… Help a mother out.)  

Little Man: I. Don’t. Want. To.

Kia: Oh, here’s the skinny, Loopy-Loo. You’re going into the classroom and I’ll sit out in the lobby for a few minutes just to make sure that you’re ok. Then when Miss Mopey gives me a little wave from the door, I’ll know that you’re ok and I’ll go. Then I’ll be back in a little while, ok? And when I come back, I’ll have a little bribe surprise for you. (This is only the first  second  thirty-secondmillionth time I’ve done this, people, so back off!) Ok? Ok.

And it worked. Oh, that and telling him that I’d take him to Wendy’s for lunch after school today. Teehee…apparently he announced to the entire building at bathroom-break-time that he was going to get a bribe surprise AND go to Wendy’s when his mommy came back. Yeah, now I’m that  mommy at the school; the mommy who buys her kid’s cooperation. For shame! 

Whatev’s.

Tomorrow is LM’s second day of school. You know, the place he says he isn’t going back to, like, ever….

Fun times, people. Fun times.

Here’s the pressing issue at hand though, friends: When I got there today and looked at the door to Little Man’s classroom, I noticed (like it was in flashing neon, only not) that Kindergarten was spelled “Kindergarden” on the sign. WTF, people? If you’re going to be teaching it, shouldn’t you be able to spell  it?

Feck. Really? Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of test for the parents? Or should I get my kid the hell away from there and find a real school with real teachers? KindergarDen. WTF?! Are they going to be planting shit all year or something?

So would you tell the teacher? It’s going to kill me to look at that bloody sign all year. Should I just hope that someone else points it out so I don’t have to be the bitchy one? But if I don’t point it out, will they then think I’m stupid because I didn’t notice that it was wrong? Gee dammit, now I’m sweating. Get a grip, Kia.

Maybe I’ll just sneak in a bit early tomorrow and put a sticky note over the “d”. You know, with a “t” on it…

What would you  do?

Kia

P.S. Do me a favour and scroll down to the next blog entry. I’d appreciate you taking note of a wonderful woman who reads my blog. Thanks a whole lot!