
So, my middle child is in preschool. Preschool is a wonderful thing. Lots of playing, painting, and parties. Luckily, thanks to my son’s wonderful teacher, there is also learning encorporated into all of the aforementioned pleasures.
She has started a new system during the last hour of class in which she incorporates center rotations. She has asked for parent volunteers to help with the centers.
I told her I would be happy to help, and I was.
Things went smoothly, the class was well behaved, their art projects were a smashing success, and I walked away happy. As I loaded my son into his booster seat, he told me (with his adorable lisp and inability to say l’s, or r’s),
“Mommy, I thtiww (still) wuv you, but I never want you to come to my prethkool (preschool) ever again, and thith time I mean it!”
He said it with such passion that I nearly peed my pants. I had hardly interacted with him as “my son” so I was quite surprised with is reaction to my visit.
I informed him that I had already volunteered to help again the following Monday during their Thanksgiving party so he was out of luck.
After a little contemplation, he came up with a solution, “Weww, (well) you can pretend to be Kam’th mother then.”
At least he still loves me right?