Look Out Preschool! It’s the “C” Team!

 It was our turn today to take the little ones to their preschool for Mother’s Day Out.  I’ve only gone the one other time with their maternal grandpa.   But never fear.  I had their lunches packed, clothes in their bags, and figured we were prepared.  Their maternal grandma (“Nammy”) dropped little Spud off on her way to work.  They’ve been keeping the little guy at night this week until the weekend when their mommy is off from her residency duties and their daddy returns from Canada.  (Let the rejoicing commence)  We’ve had Sweet Pea with us.

Last night I was brave and gave Sweet Pea a bath. It has been just about 23 years since I last bathed a child so I was not too sure I was up for the task but things went pretty well.  Although I’ve discovered that it is a darn side harder to get a newly-bathed child into pajamas than it is to get a dry kiddo into a pair of pjs.  Man, I thought I’d NEVER get her arms into those sleeves and out the ends.  I liberally sprayed her wet hair with the stuff that is supposed to slick it down to make the combing “tangle-free.”  It worked.  Hooray!  Then I introduced Sweet Pea to my blow dryer.  I didn’t want to put her to bed with wet hair.  My mother taught me that this is a sure way to give a child pneumonia.  At least it is in Minnesota.

Back to today!  We got both children fed and left them to their own devices for a few minutes while I finished getting their bags ready.  The normal squabbling was going on in the background but no one seemed to be in imminent danger so as the time to depart drew closer, I decided we’d better do one more diaper check.  I had the Commander change Spud.

“I hope I remember how to do this,” he said.

“You’ll learn,” I retorted, and continued getting the little guy’s bottle ready.

Then I took over with Sweet Pea.  Of course, she had a major stinkeroo waiting for me.

“I want my soft pillow,” she wailed, as I hefted her on to the changing table.

“Sorry, you’ve got the hard one,” I countered.

“I want all of my kitties,” she whimpered.

“Have a dog,” I said, trying not to breathe in the smell.

The diaper was swiftly changed and off we traipsed to the van to load up and head to the church school.  Sweet Pea was still not too sure about the fact that her kitties had been left at the house.  “Here, have Perdita,” I said and gave her one of the plastic dalmatians.  Spud was keeping himself occupied with undoing the Velcro straps on his shoes in the meantime.

We arrived at the school without further incident and walked down the hallway to the kiosk where you check the children in electronically.  I had “kind-of” watched their grandpa do this the other day but hadn’t paid very close attention.  I handed the special card to the Commander and he took over.  He’s very good with figuring out stuff like that.

While we were studying the screen, another parent was getting impatient.  “Push this button,” he said.

“Sorry,” I laughed.  “We’re the ‘C’ team today.  We’re still learning the ropes.”

Their check-in sheets printed out but I was concerned that no corresponding labels printed to stick on the backs of their shirts.

“That was only for the first couple of weeks,” explained the parent.

Now it was time to deposit Sweet Pea in her classroom.  I found her door, alerted her teacher and turned around to usher in our girl and was greeted by the most woebegone look that I’ve seen in a long time.  Oh, my….I can see that this child has inherited my dramatic abilities.  With trembling lip, she slipped into the room.

It was Spud’s turn.  This could be a challenge.  He was not a happy boy last school day but today he was calm and collected right up to the classroom door and then………he lost it.  Luckily his teacher took over and whisked him into class while I deposited his bag in the proper bin and his bottle into the refrigerator.

The Commander and I climbed back into the van.  “Do you want to stop anywhere?” he asked me.

It was too early for Dairy Queen to be open so I opted to just go back home and enjoy the luxury of a shower.  “C” team, signing out.

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Hot Flashed Funk

  • I’m sure if you weren’t fighting a cold, you would feel more like the “B” team. 🙂


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