Raw Drip

Dropping off Adam this morning, he was in an especially anxious mood.  He’d made it clear that he wasn’t feeling well (seemed fine to me) and that he didn’t want to go to school today.  I was simultaneously suspicious and sympathetic.  If I have to drag myself to my job day in and day out, it’s certainly not going to be much easier for a 4 year old to grasp the necessity of the whole boring routine.  But without a rash or a fever, what’s a working parent to do?  So I drug him to school.

Unfortunately, it didn’t make either of us feel any better when I walked my anxious, grumpy 4-year old into his room and his teacher, Miss Melissa, immediately started in with all her testy teacher talk.

Miss M to me: “Please try to get him here by 8:45. We maintain a structured schedule for the curriculum.” (For the record, we walked into the room at 8:46)

What I said: “Yes.  It’s been a crazy morning so I’m sorry we’re a little bit late.”

What I wanted to say:“Yes.  It’s been a crazy morning.  Next time you’re a millisecond late to something, I hope someone as nice as you is there to remind you of what a complete fuck-up you are.  Have a nice day!”

Miss M to Adam as he was kissing me goodbye: “Adam, time to go sit down at your table and get to work on your alphabet book – now!  And, I’m going to need to see some better listening from you today…”

What I said: “Just wrapping up our last hug & kiss here…”

What I wanted to say: “We just walked in the door.  Can you give him a few minutes to get settled before you start riding his ass, you shrew!”