ahhhhh, i am not even sure where to begin…
let’s see, how about right here where I sit trying to recover from the parent social that just happened at my daughters new preschool. there are a few things i wish i could have done to prepare for this social. things like shower, be 12 times as rich as i currently am or train my child in the way she should go so hazel would refrain from yelling BOOGIE over and over and over again with increasing volume as if she had been trained by an adolescent boy who was fresh off learning that game where you loudly say the name of a body part in public. anyway, un-showered in a t shirt, jeans and my favorite pair of vans i got for christmas in 1998 (yes you read that right) i headed into the land where tea was served in china cups and fancy cookies lined a silver plate that was nestled on the coffee table right at 2-year-old level. LET THE GAMES BEGIN.
as people discuss potty training, sibling quarrels and the difference between the male and female brain i am stuffing yellow napkins down Hazel’s shirt because she has very vocally insisted that she have her own cup of lemonade. this cup of lemonade is now covering her shirt, pants and a good portion of the carpet beneath the coffee table. oh well, they said we were welcome to bring little ones if needed and they run a freaking preschool so they must understand. we move on and begin to discuss tantrums and how the children are operating out of the brain stem at this point and are therefore unable to control their impulses and thats when hazel turns to me and whispers “boogie”. shhh, i say, its not your turn, the ladies are talking right now. brilliant, christin really because this gave her just enough information to know that at the next conversational break she should yell BOOGIE and laugh laugh laugh. a kind woman to my left tries to bail me out and says yes, i see you have your mom’s keys. and hazel unwilling to go down without a fight says nooooooo BOOOOOOOOGGGGGIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. well, now that we are all straight on what my daughter has begun to repeat over and over again, i decide to take her out and reason with my two year old who has recently been injected with lemonade and a cookie the size of her sweet little head. i set her down to look at her eye-to-eye and explain to her that down here it’s our time, its our time down here. up there (in the classrooms above us) it’s their time, but it’s our time down here. to this she throws her head back and laughs, runs back into the room and picks up the church phone and starts calling friends and inviting them to the lemonade cookie crack party with the old peeps. i head out with my sweet hazel and not a shred of dignity.
on the way out a mom stops me and asks what i am doing about kindergarden next year. which tours am i doing? have i decided which path to tread in the magnet cycle? and isn’t it crazy that this all starts in a few days… hmmmmmmm what to do? what to do? divulge that i had no idea about any of the impending deadlines? tell her i have taken nary a tour and i don’t know whether i prefer the self-guided or the ones where they relay the information? nope, i pause and smile and hazel says B O O G I E. another lady joins in and says it is all so confusing and despite taking every tour and having already turned in her application for the november 28th deadline she feels soooo behind. well, i’m gonna head out so you don’t have to hear anymore about boogies, i say. the looks were priceless- i sincerely believe that even their tennis skirts were glaring at me.
we go pick up molly corin and get in the car and hazel says boogie? and i say PLEASE stop saying that WORD! to which mc says… mom, she just wants to dance.