My children attend a center for child development. I could not say enough great things about this place. There would be so many exclamation points that you wouldn’t be able to read the text. I would put one HERE! and HERE! and HERE!
Every day, the children bring home a report card that tells me how they have fared. I love these report cards (EXCLAMATION POINT!). Sigourney doesn’t speak in sentences (though she has recently become a fan of the vigorous head shake — NO to everything!), and Erma, when asked what she did that day will always reply, “I don’t know.”
Thanks to the report cards, I *do* know what she does each day. Well, kind of.
See? This is why she goes to preschool; they are much more lenient than I am. I have rules about not carrying food around the house in purses. Rules, I say!
“…likes to hide people in a house and then gets frustrated when she can’t get them out!” This is the kind of thing that makes me laugh when it happens at daycare, but makes me cry when it happens at home.
Made a car out of a chair and keys? Obviously, child is GENIUS.
Peeling tape at the table. This is a great activity that I will start employing on cold winter afternoons.
So now child is mechanic for fire department? How much does this position pay, and when can I start?
May need a bath? I think they were probably being North Dakota nice with this one.
Ouch. Not a good day for the tramps.
I like that she is universally refusing to take naps, because sometimes I am sure that all of her stubbornness and outrage are aimed at me alone.
Whether it says purple cow snack or purple cow shack, it makes the same amount of sense to me.
In case I hadn’t mentioned it before, Sigourney is part sparrow.
You know what the world is missing? More SLIME.
I said she was half sparrow, but what I didn’t say is, the other half is monkey. Obviously, the monkey half is the half that uses her feet for art projects. Hole in pants!
Now I’m just jealous. She’s circling the globe and I’m sitting at my desk coordinating travel arrangements for people I don’t know. The world is ironic.
And now that she’s married and driving around in waffle cars, I say my parenting work here is done. Sorry, tramps!