School Daze

Posted by Sheri at 8/13/2007 8:46 PM
Categories: uncategorized

Wednesday begins my kids’ second year of preschool.  I realize the decision as to when to begin sending your child to preschool can be a difficult, gut-wrenching one.  After originally touring some preschools about a year-and-a-half ago I made the decision that Crusher would not be ready for preschool that coming fall, at almost two-years-old.  Then last August, the day before school was to begin, I had a change of heart.  I unwrapped his legs from around the ceiling fan, pulled the carrot sticks out of his nose, and raced my badass minivan down to that school at breakneck speed with Crusher securely fastened to the roof rack to enroll his crazy, freak of nature self.

Then last January our babysitter, who had become like part of our family, had a conflict with her school schedule and wasn’t going to be able to help out with Bam Bam regularly anymore.  At the time I accused her of trying to kill me.  But now I know she was only probably trying to kill me.  So at sixteen-months-old, off to Siberia preschool Bam Bam went.  As it was she cried everyday when Crusher got dropped off and she had to go home, so I figured it’d be worth a try to see if she wanted to stay there for a few hours, too.  Having some time to myself was all part of my master plan to never let my children see the inside of a grocery store before puberty.  My kids think you plant cans in the pantry and they grow.  Please, like Spagettios don’t grow on vines.  Too funny.

I have become such a proponent of preschool for my children that if I were to have a third child it would go from the labor and delivery ward directly to school.  Besides, I used to be concerned with all of the viruses they’d catch at school, but now I know when kids are too snotty to go to school their parents just take them to the play area at the mall where kids who don’t go to preschool are playing. 

No, no, no.  Kidding.

We take them to the movies.

So in exactly thirty-six hours, Crusher and Bam Bam will be back, pocket protectors firmly strapped on.

I'm not as stressed as you'd think I'd be about that hanging preposition on the previous sentence.  I am meditating on a Jamaican island and listening to jazz, while doing yoga and smoking a joint.  See, dangling preposition- no problema, mon!


 

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