THNGVBD

Selam’s that is, not mine.

So, she woke up a little bit late, which was somewhat intentional on my part. She was up a bit late and needed the rest, I thought. But waking up late meant I’d already showered, which means that her morning dose of Martha Speaks while mommy gets ready was shot.

Then we couldn’t find her reading bag.

Then we discovered that the milk had gone bad, so she couldn’t have cereal and milk.

Then she went to school and when she walked in the door, E called her Selama Banana, and when she looked to me to solve it, I told her to speak up for herself.

It turns out that E, also, had a THNGVBD, and his bad day was a bit contagious. He acted up (acc. to Selam) all day, and other kids decided to join him in the naughty behavior.  There was some trouble in gym class with the scooters and kids knocking into other kids without even saying sorry–and the gym teacher may have said no more scooters for room one , and more trouble at lunch, and it has been reported  (but not verified) that story hour was ruined by E and his posse using “potty words.”

Then it was raining at recess time and they couldn’t go outside.

The teacher led them in a game for recess and it wasn’t any fun at all, not even a little bit. J locked himself in the bathroom crying because the game was so not fun and because it was raining.

Then there was some more naughty behavior, mostly involving potty words– really, really bad words—like p–p (which was reported to me in a whisper).

Somehow, at this point, if the 5 year old can be believed, the teacher got so mad that everyone had to put their heads on their desk and sit in silence and they missed math centers.  (I have my doubts that this head on the desk thing lasted over an hour, eliminating math centers, but that’s what the witness reports).  “Even the good kids like me had to put heads down, Mommy.”

When Mommy arrived to pick up, the room was dark and everyone was silent. The infamous E was on the story rug. Everyone else was at the tables, being quiet.  When Mommy kissed her on the head and said, “Hi, Duck,” Selam cried because Mommy was breaking the no talking rule.

As I put her in the car, I asked what I could do to make the day feel better. She requested 10 kisses. I delivered 20. I got a smile.

At day’s end she fell asleep in roughly 10 seconds flat.

Now she’s talking in her sleep.

I just heard her say, “I’m not a banana.”

She isn’t. She’s a duck who had a terrible day.

I hope tomorrow is better.

If not, there’s always Australia.

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3 thoughts on “THNGVBD

  1. Oh dear, dear, dear! She gives such detailed accounts of the day — I love that! But the best part is the extra 10 kisses resulted in a smile…

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