Friday morning I made my bleary-eyed zombie walk to the living room to hustle the kids into the car for school. My little Kindergartener was still wearing her p.j.’s, but with a skirt on top.
“Baby, why aren’t you dressed?”
“Mo-o-om! It’s “O” Day. You know? Crazy Outfit Day?”
As the days of school count down, her Kindergarten class is counting down with the alphabet. Each day they do something related to the letter they’re on. Thursday was “M” day. They were watching a movie during rest time. I knew this because I had brought the popcorn.
“Huh. Yesterday was M… Okay. Put on your shoes,” I said.
Five minutes after I dropped her off I got a call from the teacher.
“Hi … I have a little girl here who’s very upset because she’s the only one wearing a crazy outfit. Crazy Outfit Day is Monday. Can you bring her a change of clothes?”
I did. And I laughed at myself the rest of the morning for forgetting the letter N. The synapses don’t fire too quickly before 8 a.m.
This morning my girl was wearing an inside-out turquoise pajama top, inside-out and backwards tan pants, a red plaid miniskirt, and mismatched pink socks. On her hands.
“Would you like me to do your hair in a bunch of crazy piggy tails?”
“Mo-o-om!” She screwed up her face in her most irritated look, one that will have to suffice until she masters the preteen art of the eye roll. “That would look bad!”
Of course it would. So much for my early-morning ideas.
Categories: The Kids