Another post about preschool

Today

I was going to write about our fun-filled family night at the drive-INs last Saturday.

I was going to write about my alone time with hubby and baby Saturday afternoon running errands and going to Walmart and running into an old-long-lost friend whom I need to do more catching up with.

I was going to write about last night's Back 2 School night at the preschool, and how proud and grateful we are that wonder boy is going to this school. And how surprised we were to find out that he already knows his months from January all the way to December!

and I was going to write about how happy I am with how far he's come with his swimming lessons, because yesterday, he was able to do his pop-ups more than half the length of the pool for the first time ever.

and finally, I was going to write about how, his last two days of school last week, I was able to drop him off, without fuss and tears, just a big boy good-bye, and see ya later mom.

But instead, I'm going to write about another horrible morning drop-off at preschool! And how I spent an hour of my work time googling for HELP on the subject matter.

So help me god!

I am really, really, really tired of it. So tired to the point that I was compulsive enough to consider even changing schools on him. Yeah, like that's really going to resolve our issue.

But seriously, ironic how, in the midst of this dilemma, I received a phone call last Friday from one of the prestigious schools that I signed up for months and months ago, with the news that they have 1 spot open if I am still interested.

So, I totally and completely got all worked up with the idea that maybe, just maybe, he will like it better there, and that, we are going to save almost two hundred dollars a month, meaning, I can maybe buy myself some new shoes, or a purse, or maybe an expensive hair cut. LoL!

Whatever.

I was soooooooo dreaming! Not just about the shoes, and the purse! But the whole idea that this school is the answer to my problems.

First of all, the tuition was a lot more than what they told me over the phone. Secondly, the teacher was sooooo MEAN. And as an adult, who tries to write, and use fancy words once in a while, I really want to avoid trying to use that word, but there's no other words to describe her but "MEAN". She was literally yelling at some of the kids who were already teary-eyed while they were in line to wash their hands, so hubby and I thought, sheesh, if you're like that while we're here, I don't even want to know what happens when we're not.

Surely, she has some good teacher qualities, which is why she's a teacher, but something just told me that a classroom full of super-behaved 3yr-olds just felt a little bit eerie to me. To make the matters even worse, on our way out, our "tour" person told us that if money was an issue, and that if we couldn't come up with the stated $11k/year tuition fee, that, we can probably work something out! WTF is this? a car sales woman trying to wheel and deal me into signing up my child? So, we left, and said, thanks... but NO THANKS!

Now back to my REAL problem.

This morning, wonder boy happily and excitedly got ready for school, because get this, he's this week's V.I.P. - meaning, he gets to bring something for show & tell each day, and he gets to be line leader, and most of all, teacher's helper. And let's not forget, he gets to show off more stuff about himself. So I put this together.... in the wee hours of the night:





I'm a scrapbooking drop-out so I had all the stuff on hand, it was just a matter of getting them all together, which is pretty much what kept me up until 1 o'clock in the morning.

Now, really, back to my story....

Same old story, skipping and hopping along the parking lot, cheery good mornings to the passer by's... skip some more.... and hop some more.... until...... sccccrrreeeeccccchhhhhhh!!!!!! He froze like a statue and hung on my leg all over again, and this time, he cried, out loud, really loud..... I WANT TO GO HOME WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

And just like that, we are back to square one.....for the eleventeenth time.

. . .