Doodle

Today I made Caroline a sandwich for lunch and she asked for some carrots and ranch dressing to go with it. Since I am all about getting a vegetable in her diet even if it’s covered in a little bit of fat, I added carrots and ranch dressing to her plate.

I let her sit at the coffee table so that she could enjoy her lunch while watching Max and Ruby. By the way, where are Max and Ruby’s parents? If she were my big sister, I would tell her to quit all that bossing before I decide to boil her in a pot. And if y’all don’t know, Ruby is a rabbit so don’t get all freaked out. She’s just a rabbit. I’m not condoning the boiling of big brothers or sisters.

Anyway, Caroline is eating her lunch and I get on the computer so that I could read yet another article about A&M beating t.u.

After about 15 minutes, I go in there to get her ready for naptime and discover that she has marinated herself in ranch dressing. She has literally rubbed ranch dressing all over her arms and legs.

So, I ask the first question that comes to mind, “Why? Why would you do that? Why would you rub ranch dressing all over yourself?” She looked right at me and said, “I didn’t do it Mama, my hands did.”

And that is what we call the art of passing the buck.

Yesterday was the big Thanksgiving program at Caroline’s school. She was a pilgrim, although a very reluctant pilgrim.

On Ugly Betty the other night, the nephew said he was the only pilgrim that did “jazz hands”, I was hoping that my pilgrim might throw in a little jazz hands for good measure, but I think she was way too concerned about wearing a hat made of butcher paper.

They sang a few songs including America the Beautiful and Any Turkey Can Tango. You know…the Thanksgiving classics.

She had been uncharacteristically quiet when I’d asked her about the program because she said it was a surprise. I did get a little insight though the other night when she was singing a song about cornucopias in the bathtub, and seeing as how we usually say “horn of plenty” instead of cornucopia, I figured it must be related to the big Thanksgiving show.

And no matter how reluctant she might have originally been, the ham in her won out once she was onstage.

I thought she was the cutest little singing pilgrim I’ve ever seen.

Yesterday, Caroline and I went to meet a friend for lunch. I got her out of her carseat and then helped her walk to the sidewalk.

I realized I had forgotten some things I needed in the car, so I told her to stay on the sidewalk while I started rummaging around my front seat looking for my phone and some papers.

I guess I took too long because all of a sudden I hear her say, “Come on Mama, hurry up. It’s like herding a bunch of cats.”

I don’t know where she’s heard that before.

Friday night we took Caroline to her first high school football game. She had a great time although she did ask if “it could be a little more quiet”. She’s not a fan of loud noises unless she is the one making them.

At one point, P and Caroline went down to the concession stand to get a delicious bean and cheese taco, and by delicious, I mean absolutely disgusting but what do I know? I don’t have the discriminating palate of a 3 year old.

Anyway, while they were gone, a dad comes and sits behind me with his little boy. It just so happens that I knew this little boy was in Caroline’s class last year, but I didn’t really know the dad. Someone asked him where his son was in school this year and he precedes to tell them, and talk about the wonderful curriculum and how superior it is to the school the kids attended last year.

After sitting in front of them for about 30 minutes, I can promise y’all that one thing the new, improved curriculum at the new, improved school doesn’t include is a lesson in how to not kick the back of the person in front of you 184 times in a 3 minute time period. I knew for sure that by the time we left, one of my kidneys was going to be permanently damaged.

Fortunately, the dad was so preoccupied with discussing this new school’s academic superiority that he wasn’t worried about my kidneys or the fact that his son was about to take a header onto the ground below.

I’m sorry, back to my original point.

Apparently, the preschool our children attended last year has a subpar curriculum in his opinion and they aren’t focused enough on educational goals. I guess my standards are a little lower because I was just impressed that they taught Caroline not to throw sand on the playground and how to glue a popsicle stick on some construction paper.

I had no idea that she was going to be so behind because she wasn’t attending a preschool with a curriculum that placed more emphasis on quantum physics and algebraic equations. How on earth is she going to have a chance of getting into the Ivy League with St. Episcopal Preschool as part of her academic record?

I’ll just have to hope and pray that we can overcome this educational deficit in the dog eat dog world of elementary school.

She is also at a new school this year and I have really lofty goals for her academic progress. I’m hoping she might learn to share toys, develop friendships, learn how to slide down the big slide and if we’re really lucky, not pick her nose in a social setting. Now I’m questioning if that will be enough on her kindergarten resume.

Of course, I can take some comfort in the discussion we had on the way to school last week. She told me she didn’t want to go to school today. I said, “Well sweetie, you’re going to school. It’ll be fun and you’ll learn something”. She looked right at me as I was getting her out of her carseat and told me, “I’m going to school, but I’m NOT going to learn anything”.

I guess all this worrying about school curriculums may be an exercise in futility given the fact that we are talking about stubborn, willful 3 year olds who aren’t really worried about our agendas as much as they are worried about whose turn it is to be line leader on the way to chapel and if they’re going to get any candy today.

Caroline has learned this little song at school that they sing before they eat lunch. It’s sung to the tune of “Are You Sleeping?”