My daughter is now in kindergarten. Here, kindergarten is full day, meaning she is in school from about 9-3. She loves it. Yesterday, they celebrated their 100th day of school, which is apparently a Big Freakin' Deal, and something I don't remember celebrating in school as a kid but according to pinterest and my facebook newsfeed, it's a new international holiday or whatever. In reality, I think it's Kiddo's 87th day of school, because she's contracted several plague-like illnesses as kindergarteners will.
The teacher asked if some of the parents could stay and help out with some of the classroom activities yesterday, and because my job has flexible hours and I'm a sucker, I agreed to come and aid in the supervision of twenty 5 and 6 year old kids with free range to art supplies. There is nothing that can simultaneously build up and tear down your confidence like little kids. They haven't developed a brain to mouth filter yet, and they are impulsive and strange. I enjoy them.
Now, my daughter and her friends are nose-pickers. When she started school, I told her she needed to stop picking and consuming the contents of her nostrils. It was gross, and other kids might make fun of her. She shrugged and told me that all kids picked, and it wasn't a big deal. She seems to be right. I'm not sure what age it goes from acceptable to unacceptable, but it's not kindergarten age. They're all gross. Yesterday, a little boy came up to me and tugged on my shirt. "Mrs. W, Olivia just ate glue." I turn around and see Olivia with a big grin on her face, sitting in front of a tray of white paste.
Me: "Olivia, really? Glue?"
Olivia: "Glue is good!"
Me: "No. What? Glue is not food. That's just... ew. Don't eat glue."
Another little boy at the table: "I eat glue. It IS good." He dips his finger in the glue and licks.
I stared in horror at them. "You all deserve each other."
The children cackled in glee.
I got to read the children a story. This was fun, and they actually listened to me. We had discussions about the ending of the book. I felt like a rock star. Then, later, one of the little girls stared at me while I helped her with a mask. "Why did you touch your hair?"
I didn't even know I had touched my hair. "I don't know. I guess I had a knot in my hair."
Girl: "Oh. Why are you so much shorter than my mom?"
Me: "Because. This is how tall I'm supposed to be."
Girl: "Oh. What's that red mark on your face?"
Me: "Um, a pimple? It's something people get when they grow up. Teenagers get them, and sometimes when you're as old as a mom, you get them, too."
Girl: "My mom doesn't have red marks on her face."
Me: "Okay, well, you probably have a better chance of not having red marks on your face when you get big, too. And probably you'll be taller than me, so you've got that going on, too."
Girl: "You're funny. I hope you come back tomorrow."
You see? They tear you up, they tear you down, and they are so funny.
