I volunteered to join my daughter’s kindergarten class at the museum yesterday.
I loved the idea of the museum because I would no longer feel guilty about attending a class trip with Hanna’s grade three class the week earlier, now we were even Steven. Except of course, Hanna’s class would also be on the museum trip.
I was under a strict Ellie-imposed gag order. I was to sit with Ellie on the bus (provided she didn’t decide last minute to ditch me and sit with four of her small bottomed friends). I was not to engage in conversation with Hanna, her classmates, teacher or anyone that might happen to be in the museum with a history of a previous conversation and/or eye contact lasting longer than three seconds with Hanna.
To be honest, I really didn’t have time to be worrying about the grade threes when I had a group assignment of five kindergarten kids in my care. I’ve never counted to five so many times in my life. I randomly pointed at heads in the air and learned the backs of five First Choice hair-cuts intimately. The biggest scare of course was when they changed into winter coats and hats, suddenly I was looking for five brand new snow-ready kids.
I was told by one girl who insisted on wiping her nose on my sweater, using the button holes as a loop through which we would remain as one for the duration of the trip, connected mostly by her snot, “I know what colour your real hair is– brown.” It’s true but in fairness, they’re just blonde highlights, it’s not a wig.
When I accidentally passed Hanna’s lunch table, I did mistakenly glance in her direction but that exchange was quickly shortened when a classmate shouted to me, “Does Hanna know what S-E-X is yet?”
I think I’ll stick to counting heads.