Just another manic ....Tuesday

D is a kindy kid.  The theory to that is that he goes to school 5 days a week and enjoys learning lots of things and comes out each day having learnt lots of things.  In reality, this means that more afternoons than not, I speak to his teacher (who is spectacular, by the way) about what has happened, who he's decided is his target for the day and what may have set it off.  Today, for example, the last 15 minutes before we finally trekked across the sludgy playground back to our car was spent like this:

Me - did you take money from the office?
 D - No, I did not.

Me - Why did you take money that didn't belong to you?

D - I didn't take any money
Me - The money that you took, was it gold or silver?

D - Gold

Me - where did you put it?

D - it's in the side pocket of my bag, I'll go get it.

This is the part when I want to scream and say something like "Are you F*n serious? You can't do that!"
The teacher and I look at each other, realise that I have asked a question based on fact and this may have been the key to it all.

I explain that we have to return it because it does not belong to us.

We find the executive teacher.  Then D realises he has to fess up to taking the money.  He's not really happy about that, because he hates to be wrong, or anyone actually having any authority over him at all.  He goes and hides and refuses to return the money.  This is where the big guns are required.  Mummy says he has until I count down from 10 to come.  Otherwise there will be a consequence - and since I have his teacher watching me, and the executive watching me, the consequence is the loss of technology time.  I think I make it until 5 until he decides it's not worth the loss of his most coveted thing in the whole world.  More than life itself.  

Now, to give you the full picture, J is hanging off my arm deciding silently that he is no longer going to walk and most certainly does not want to hold my hand.  Every step we take, J throws his legs out from underneath him to show his protest. I could yell, but it won't make a difference.  He gets thrown on my back and I once again thank the Lord that I embraced the world of babywearing so I can efficiently get a nearly 4 year old onto my back quickly. Otherwise I would have had him under my arm, which also works too.

We get to the office.  We now have to apologise. This is not an easy thing for D, and he loves the office as a place of retreat.  Eventually, he gives the money up (which he had put back in his bag, hoping that he may just get to keep the money) and repeats the apology that I dictate for him.

He then asks if I have any money.  I say no - which is true, because J keeps taking the money out of my wallet and telling me it's chocolate.  Bloody pirate parties have a lot to answer for! - D wants the money for a ride that costs $2.

Anyhoo, this is a fairly normal account of an afternoon at school pick up. It's no wonder that I don't drink more than I do!

Kelly xx