This is what happens when a rookie parent volunteers in kindergarten. It isn't pretty. I have no idea whose turn it is.
I have no idea what to do either.
When your teacher was giving instructions I was frantically gesturing to my own child to stop digging in his nose, get a tissue, and follow up with hand sanitizer. It was a three-pronged interpretive mime that required all of my energy, and attracted none of his.
Count on your fingers. Actually yes, when you count that way 10-3 does look like eight. Use my hands. Do my nails always look like this? Go get a number chart.
Of course I can help you with your barrette. Can it go next to one of the other 72 barettes on your head? I didn’t think so.
I am smiling as I give you this high five, but note the fear in my eyes as your hand comes to greet mine from deep, deep inside your pants.
Buddy? Yes, you buddy. No, not him buddy. OF COURSE I KNOW YOUR NAMES, don’t be silly, you Silly.
I can help you more easily if you open your eyes.
Sure you can go to the bathroom, but where are you now?
Sweetheart? Your bottom is all the way out of your pants. Oh, it always is. Got it.
Yes I would love to hear your rendition of Billy Jean. Now would you like to hear my rendition of Billy Jean? I mean, lets focus on counting by fives.
(Ann will be sleeping for the next FIVE days as she recovers from her volunteering experience!!!)
