Dear People Whose Blogs I Read/Check Every Single Day,
I am sorry if I have ever been silently and secretly frustrated with you for not posting every day. After signing myself up for National Blog Posting Month I realize how hard it is to say something, anything, and put it on the internet every day. Forget trying to write something people will actually want to read I just try to throw SOMETHING out here and mentally cross "POST TODAY!" off my to-do list. Every couple of days I write some big long post (and by big long post I mean a couple of paragraphs) and spend at least some time on it and then think, phew I'm glad I got that done. The next day I am still congratulating myself on having posted something mildly clever and amusing and thinking man I'm glad that's over and then I realize I have to write something AGAIN today. That's the thing with NaBloPoMo, it lasts for an entire month. Hopefully everyone else out there is doing better than I am. We'll see if I make it through the whole month.
Friday, November 10, 2006
In Which I Remind You How Gross Kids Really Are:
I called the school today to tell them that I can't sub this afternoon. Which makes me a horrible person but frees me up to have lunch with my mom before she goes to a conference in Dallas for the weekend and also gives me more time to spend with one of my best gal pals who is visiting from New Jersey.
Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Kids are kind of gross. Now, I like kids. They are ok. I do not love them as much as those people whose life's goal is to be a kindergarten teacher but I don't detest them. I might even have some eventually, in like 15 years. Here's the thing. Kids are so ridiculously cute for a reason. They are designed that way so that when people realize how gross a kid can be (and what a pain in the ass, and how expensive, and time consuming, etc) they don't just give up on the kid because it is so darn cute.
Case in point: There is a kid at the school named Anderson. First, I love that name because of CNN hottie Anderson Cooper. I mean, have you SEEN the man's steel blue eyes? Second, Anderson (the kid, not the beautiful gay reporter) is very smart for a four year old. This makes him kind of hard to argue with but I can appreciate crafty argument tactics in a 4-year-old. Third, he thinks I am cool, for a girl. The other day after lunch I noticed that Anderson had a wet spot on the back of his pants and I said, "Anderson, did you have an accident?" He said he hadn't, there wasn't a wet spot on the front of his pants, and it didn't seem to bother him, so I just let it go. With kids, you pick your battles. A short time later Anderson wanted me to read to him. I love reading to the kids because it doesn't take much energy and they sit relatively still, which is unusual. So he's sitting next to me and we're reading book after book about apples. Apparently it is Apple Week in the 4-year-old room. I don't get it but whatever. Then about halfway through book 234,323 Anderson asks if he can sit in my lap. "Well buddy," I say, "your pants are still pretty wet. I kind of don't want my pants to get all wet either. Do you want to change and then you can sit on my lap?" And to this the adorable kid says, "Yeah I'm not really sure how they got wet but it's pretty uncomfortable." Well JEEZ kid if it is that uncomfortable you can ask us and we'll get you a new pair of pants, goofball. Sitting around all afternoon in pants that are wet with some kind of mystery liquid is just GROSS.
Second example, as if you needed another one. It is pizza week in the 2-year-old room. I don't get these themes or how the teachers come up with them because they seem incredibly random. Anyway, there is a huge table-tub thing full of flour for the kids to play with. They absolutely love it but get flour EVERYWHERE. On the floor, all over their clothes, in their hair, in their eyes, in each other's eyes, on the teacher, etc. It is rather disgusting but they seem to love it. Then, when they are done playing with flour, they wash their hands. Now I have some experience with flour and water. When I was in college, my service organization used to play "jokes" on people and I awoke one morning to find my porch COVERED in flour. I decided to just spray it off with the hose. Bad idea, ris. Flour + Water = Disgusting Sticky Paste that is impossible to get off of anything. So I was wary of the effectiveness of this "wash your hands when you are done playing with the flour" idea. I was right. It turned to paste and was very hard to get off of the kids and their clothes. Everyone looked like they had been covered in Plaster of Paris. And then the kids would put their wet hands on my flour-covered pants and turned my jeans into a kind of walking wall of flour paste.
Survival mechanism, my friends, thats why kids are so cute.
Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Kids are kind of gross. Now, I like kids. They are ok. I do not love them as much as those people whose life's goal is to be a kindergarten teacher but I don't detest them. I might even have some eventually, in like 15 years. Here's the thing. Kids are so ridiculously cute for a reason. They are designed that way so that when people realize how gross a kid can be (and what a pain in the ass, and how expensive, and time consuming, etc) they don't just give up on the kid because it is so darn cute.
Case in point: There is a kid at the school named Anderson. First, I love that name because of CNN hottie Anderson Cooper. I mean, have you SEEN the man's steel blue eyes? Second, Anderson (the kid, not the beautiful gay reporter) is very smart for a four year old. This makes him kind of hard to argue with but I can appreciate crafty argument tactics in a 4-year-old. Third, he thinks I am cool, for a girl. The other day after lunch I noticed that Anderson had a wet spot on the back of his pants and I said, "Anderson, did you have an accident?" He said he hadn't, there wasn't a wet spot on the front of his pants, and it didn't seem to bother him, so I just let it go. With kids, you pick your battles. A short time later Anderson wanted me to read to him. I love reading to the kids because it doesn't take much energy and they sit relatively still, which is unusual. So he's sitting next to me and we're reading book after book about apples. Apparently it is Apple Week in the 4-year-old room. I don't get it but whatever. Then about halfway through book 234,323 Anderson asks if he can sit in my lap. "Well buddy," I say, "your pants are still pretty wet. I kind of don't want my pants to get all wet either. Do you want to change and then you can sit on my lap?" And to this the adorable kid says, "Yeah I'm not really sure how they got wet but it's pretty uncomfortable." Well JEEZ kid if it is that uncomfortable you can ask us and we'll get you a new pair of pants, goofball. Sitting around all afternoon in pants that are wet with some kind of mystery liquid is just GROSS.
Second example, as if you needed another one. It is pizza week in the 2-year-old room. I don't get these themes or how the teachers come up with them because they seem incredibly random. Anyway, there is a huge table-tub thing full of flour for the kids to play with. They absolutely love it but get flour EVERYWHERE. On the floor, all over their clothes, in their hair, in their eyes, in each other's eyes, on the teacher, etc. It is rather disgusting but they seem to love it. Then, when they are done playing with flour, they wash their hands. Now I have some experience with flour and water. When I was in college, my service organization used to play "jokes" on people and I awoke one morning to find my porch COVERED in flour. I decided to just spray it off with the hose. Bad idea, ris. Flour + Water = Disgusting Sticky Paste that is impossible to get off of anything. So I was wary of the effectiveness of this "wash your hands when you are done playing with the flour" idea. I was right. It turned to paste and was very hard to get off of the kids and their clothes. Everyone looked like they had been covered in Plaster of Paris. And then the kids would put their wet hands on my flour-covered pants and turned my jeans into a kind of walking wall of flour paste.
Survival mechanism, my friends, thats why kids are so cute.
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