When I picked the kids up from school today, after pressing snooze on my alarm (that indicated that not only had I fallen asleep while putting the baby down, but that I had managed to accomplish absolutely nothing all day), they had some FANTASTIC things to tell me.
DISCLAIMER: Fantastic things to kindergarteners are a very different kind of idea that includes, but is not limited to: bugs, squished bugs, dried bugs, liquids or solids (or liquids that should be solids) that exit the body, milk spraying out of the nose (accidental or on purpose -- a feat my boys are currently working to perfect), clowns (even the very creepy ones), hitting, kicking, punching, general mayhem, boogers, the word "butt" in any language (even the one with only one T), and learning to read.
Learning to read is obviously an amazing thing (otherwise I wouldn't be capable of bringing you such intelligent content on a semi-yearly basis when it strikes my fancy to sit down at the computer and do something that a handful of people find productive) so I am on board with this being in the list. I just don't know exactly where it fits in with all the other things in the list.
Unless it was a milk-proof book about clowns squishing bugs containing the word "butt" on every page in a multilingual fashion that could later be inserted on the hand to use as a boxing glove, or something of the sorts.
DISCLAIMER: Please don't feel the need to actually make my children a book like this because it will get "lost" very soon after the present is opened. Although if you want to find yourself the infamous subject of a semi-annual, sort of productive blog someday...
Anyway, back to the subjective subject at hand: "fantastic" things.
Once I got over that I-took-a-three-hour-nap-in-the-middle-of-the-day nausea feeling, I was ready to listen.
Until I heard what it was about.
And I heard it loud.
And I heard it clear.
"We had a practice fire drill today," Gavin said, innocently.
"It went like this: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
Leonardo pipes up, because he is always ready for an obnoxious challenge, "No, no, no. It was more like this: EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE"
Don't mind me, I'm thinking, while my eyes are aggressively blinking in defense of my brain.
I'm only driving a car. No big deal.
Gavin: Maybe it was like, SKKKKIIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIII
Leonardo: SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK-SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK-SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK
RJ: eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee
Me: Oh, that is NOT EVEN true, RJ! You don't even go to school yet!
Completely inaccurate, I think, shaking my head... and trying to imagine what the alarm sounded like at my school when I was little. Not that anyone would listen to me if I tried to correct them.
After all, who knows alarms better than a mother of boys?
So when we make it home, Gavin is SO EXCITED about something he has in his folder from school:
"I got a reminder in my bag, Mom! A reminder! I can't wait for you to read it!"
"Oh, really? That sounds terrific!"
"It is! Can we get it out now?"
*sigh* Always so eager for the fun to begin.
"No, no. Let me get your snack and do what I need to do. Then we'll sit down together so we can pull out your folder and really have time to enjoy looking through it together."
*Snack*
*Other stuff, hastily done because of the aforementioned less-than-productive afternoon*
"Okay, Gav! I'm all ready to sit down and see all the great things you have in your school folder."
He's beyond ready, sitting poised with his big smile.
He starts by handing me the little yellow paper with the word "REMINDER" on the top.
Your child's meal account has a negative balance of ___8___ dollars
They should really speed up this whole "learning to read" thing. It's on the list! Don't the kindergarten teachers know about the list???
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