Thanksgiving Heartburn

Z had her school's Thanksgiving feast today. I dropped off Z and the cupcakes in the morning, and was to return to help out at 10:45. In the meantime, I needed to get packed up for a week-long trip to visit my dad, straighten up the house so it wouldn't be a mess when we return home, and wash off several days accumulated stink. (Again, my standards of personal cleanliness? Low. Shameful.)

Now, I would like to blame it on T, who called needing paperwork that some brain trust in the department had misplaced, but it was not his fault. I simply couldn't get everything done in the allotted time frame. So I was late. And not just a little late either. Not only did I not arrive early to help set up, but I arrived late enough that the songs had already been sung and the kids were sitting down to eat.

I was just sick. When Z's teacher told me that they had already done the singing, I almost popped a tear. It is my whole job to be there for all of Z's stuff and I had missed it. Z didn't seem phased or disappointed at all, so at least there is that. A couple of the other parents took photos, but no one took a video. So for this party, I get a great big parenting fail. Boo.

I did redeem myself slightly by staying until the bitter end and helping to clean up after a horde of sugar crazed three-year-olds. I would have done that in any case, but still. Sigh.

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In different but related news, I met Z's best school friend at the feast. What can I say? Oh, noes! I totally understand why Z is friends with this little girl. She is as precocious and verbal as Z is, leaps and bounds ahead of the other kids in the class. Where the other kids are still speaking practically in grunts, Z and her friend are on a polysyllabic spree.

Where Z's chatter is bossy, but innocent, somehow her little friend seems far too worldly for pre-school. Like she came to their class via pre-school juvie. Like maybe she was grabbing a quick ciggy in the girls' room. For example, as I was helping to clean up the feast, I watched this little girl drag a little boy over to a corner and make him kiss her. OMG! She's three! Now Z has been known to give kisses, but she doesn't demand that the other kids kiss her. There was just something about this little girl that shot up my antennae.

But what do you do about it? It is not like I can tell Z not to play with this girl - that would just make her more irresistible to my hard-headed offspring. Plus she is the only kid in the room with whom Z could hold an actual conversation. She doesn't seem like she'd have a mom who would call me up for a playdate, so Z is only seeing her three mornings per week. I guess I just want Z to stay little for as long as humanly possible.

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