Holy crow. I picked up one of the notices from preschool and read about the holiday party. It’s on THIS date at THIS time in THIS location with THESE entertainments…and don’t bring your younger children.
Well, heck, I thought. What am I going to do with Kiddo#3?
Especially with a preschool, you’d think they’d understand that some people might have younger children and that we can’t just store the kid in a box for the hour or two of the party. And that since they really emphasize word-of-mouth marketing, that most of our friends who could babysit might also be at the part with their school-age children.
I figured, we just can’t go.
About an hour later it occurred to me: I don’t need to find a sitter for Kiddo#3. Kiddo#3 is the one going to preschool.
In my head, it was Kiddo#2 going to preschool, but she’s now in grammar school. And I had this awful timegash moment: how can Kiddo#3 possibly be old enough to be going to school? He’s the youngest! (Well, until April he’s the youngest.)
I’m horrified. Clearly I have no idea how old my own children are.
But hey, at least we can go to the party.
—
At dinner, Kiddo#2 started laughing because on the bus, the bus driver yelled to the back, “Stop playing musical seats!” This amused her infinitely (and makes me wonder what she tells the folks at school we say at home that’s so funny.)
But the incident reminded me of when Kiddo#1 was in second or third grade. At dinner one night, he started laughing at Kiddo#2’s toy crab, and he said, “Last year, someone brought a crab on the bus!”
My Patient Husband and I thought it odd, so I questioned further: had he seen the crab? did he know who brought the crab? then how did he know there was a crab?
“Because the bus driver said it.” Now this was getting odder. Did the bus driver object to a live animal on the bus? No, “but it was too noisy.”
By now, Patient Husband and I are exchanging looks. “You didn’t hear it,” I said, “but it was too noisy?”
Kiddo#1 nodded excitedly. “The bus driver yelled to the back of the bus, ‘Turn that crab down!'”
Did you ever have one of those times when you thought your ribs were going to crack from the sheer strain of not laughing?
My Patient Husband managed to say, “So it was a musical crab?”
And with that, I’ll end this crabby weblog entry.
