Thursday, September 11, 2014

I'm pretty much a cross between Chris Knight and Jennifer Lawrence

I’m trying not to make a big, public deal about this because it isn’t polite to brag, but I have some fairly big news. I have been selected to move to preschool three weeks early. Have you heard of the MacArthur Genius Grant (you probably haven’t - don’t feel bad)? This is pretty much the same thing.

Can you read my blushing pride over the internet?

Miss Bardha approached my mom last night to tell her there is only one preschool spot open this fall. She wanted to make sure it was offered to me before anyone else. If I don’t snap it up now, no spots will be available until June. In that time, I’d pretty much rot with all the baby two year olds surrounding me.

Miss Bardha believes that I am advanced enough to move over before my third birthday. I am potty trained. I can identify at least four letters by sight.  I keep up with the preschoolers on the playground. I’m more than socially capable, duh.

If I'm being honest, I've always been big on exclusivity and part of the excitement stems from the fact that taking this spot means a lot of other kids won't get it. One step closer to learning center domination. Get on my good side now, everybody.

Monday, September 8, 2014

You will not be missed


There are friends, I'm told, that you'll have all your life - friends you met before you can even remember - friends who know more about you than you even seem to know about yourself sometimes - friends who seem to anticipate your next move before you make it. I believe this kind of friendship can exist. Which, in turn, means that photo negative of this friendship exists, too.

This brings us to MacKenzie.
Get me out of here. Get me out of here. Get me out of here.
 
Born to a politely frazzled mom and a balding dad who forgets to wave goodbye at drop off, the youngest of three children, MacKenzie felt the need to make up for the abuse she took from her two older brothers by bullying the rest of us.

She physically assaulted us and took too long at the water fountain, just to prove she could. With eyes that whispered, “I’m going to ‘accidentally’ cut four inches of your hair off during art,” she played mind games. She told us which colors could be our favorite, as she had already laid claim to purple, like if she was a Unicorn or something.

Through it all, I stuck it out. I told myself we would eventually go to different kindergartens and I'd never have to see her again. I told myself not to show weakness. I told myself I if could be strong and beat her at her own game, I could own the learning center and rule with the kindness of a thousand Dora the Explorers. I also told myself that the Crocs she wore every summer were tacky, but that's a different story.

Well, loyal readers, my day in the sun has arrived. MacKenzie's mom (and, I'm guessing, to a lesser extent, her dad) decided it would be best to move MacKenzie to the pre-k program at her brothers' stuffy Catholic school. Maybe they finally saw the need for discipline the rest of us had seen for so very, very long. Maybe they just wanted to make one drop off each morning. I don't care. Whatever the reason, I am free!

She's been gone for a week and I feel more and more like myself every day. I wear my hair down when I nap, not afraid to wake with MacKenzie standing over me, a clump of my beautiful hair in hand. I sit where I like at breakfast. And today, I proudly wore purple to school.