The story in my strands

Everything you need to know about my day can be told in the story of my hair. It may look like I’m innocently coloring a carrot, but if you look closely, you’ll see the chaotic strands of a child who was told she slept too late to eat breakfast at home, a child whose mother is bad at putting on tights and was (rightly) told as much, a child who would rather be wearing her dad’s flip flops right now than her weather appropriate winter shoes, a child who did not get to watch the Lion King’s wildebeest stampede in the car this morning because she (rightly) ran away from her mom in the parking garage, a child who was offered her least favorite meal of French toast (gag) when she arrived at school this morning.

This is my happy place.

These aren’t even the ponies I left the house wearing this morning. My mom set me up with two braids tied off with red ponies. It’s only 9:30, I’m on my second hairdo of the day, and it’s already a disaster.

Coffee, please.

Ugh, Valentines Day, again?

Over it.

Consider yourself one-upped

In response to Matilda’s ridiculous effort last week, I decided to bring an envelope full of Q-tips™ to show and tell this week.

If we’re going to make this thing a farce, 

let’s show we really mean it.

Go to kindergarten, already

Matilda brought a dog toy to show and tell today.

Because, of course she did. 

As my mom was leaving, Matilda tried to corner her, saying, “I’m really looking forward to something. It is going to be great.”

Unimpressed, my mom said, “Oh yeah? Cool.” And left while Matilda was talking.  

Trike-a-thon 2015

It looks like the learning center's definition of "tricycle" has loosened quite a bit since last year.

 

 

Two year olds should not be allowed scissors

It is obvious Ainslie cut her own bangs over the holiday break. Big mistake.

A mom more embarrassing than my own

As Cady pointed out in Mean Girls, the lunch room at school, even preschool, can be just like the Serengeti. It usually takes me a few attempts to find just the right seat for breakfast.

This morning, I immediately walked by the Duds table filled with a bunch of kids who are only three (gross). I saw a seat at the end of the Normals table - your Annabelles, your Mauras, your Gabriels. I thought it would do for today.

As I was settling in, though, Kendall and Sophia, my Queen Bee mentors, who are already four, noticed I was wearing a Frozen shirt and started asking if they could see it.

Frozen Tuesday is the Pink Wednesday of the learning center.

 
I hopped up and, seeing one last seat at the table, quickly thought to bring my plate of waffles with me. I was going to eat breakfast with the Queen Bees today. After a mere two months in preschool, I had arrived. That wasn't so hard.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, Liam started his third meltdown of drop off. Kid. Was. Losing it. His mom, trying to get on his level and soothe him, reached for the nearest chair without looking - right as my waffle was crossing the threshold of the chair to the table. Liam's mom sat on my breakfast. I was defeated in so many, many ways.

Luckily for me, I have two things going for me. 1) I am not Liam's mom's coat, which now has syrup on the bottom hem. 2) The Queen Bees' view was blocked by Liam's mom. My mom was cool (for the first time in her life) and quietly shuffled me back to the Normals with my plate. She whispered to Liam's mom about the syrup but no one else was the wiser. I'll be back for the Queen Bees tomorrow.