Today was one of the most looked forward to day of the summer. My girls have been asking about it for weeks—actually, even since before school let out in June (yes, we were the school district that thought it was a great idea to have class until the 2nd week of June).
So, what was today?
It was the day that we found out which teacher each girl has for the coming year. These days, we get a recorded message from the teacher. Back when I was a kid, they posted them on the school doors. I remember riding my bike up to the school the day before and even the morning of the day they said they were going to post them—hoping they would do it earlier. I was so excited—even though I didn’t always know anything about the teacher. For me, I was more excited to see who was in my class. Would I get to be with my best friend? Would that boy who annoyed me be in close proximity all year? Was I gonna meet any new kids?
I got the calls a little after 5pm—about an hour before I had to leave to go pick up the girls from their Mimi’s house. Actually, they were at their Mimi’s neighborhood pool—not my favorite place to pick them up from. I already had to make them leave a birthday party (also at a pool) the day before. Being the party-pooper once again was not something I was looking forward to.
BUT, I had ammo this time—thanks to the teacher announcement. I knew who their teachers were…and they didn’t—at least not until I chose to tell them. And I had the power to tell them when I wanted. Knowledge is good—especially when you’re dealing with kids and a pool.
As I expected, I was not met with excited cries of “Oh, Mom! We are sooooo glad you are here! We were getting bored with Mimi—we only got to roller skate and swim all day with our cousins. The thought of going home, taking showers and brushing our teeth sounds so much more exciting!” Nope. I got the glares and mad stomps (thankfully, my sister-in-law saw me pull up and got them out of the pool so I didn’t have to do that part and be even more of an enemy).
So, I did what any good mom would do. I told them that I knew who their teachers were and I wasn’t telling them until we were in the car (insert sing-songy voice here). And they weren’t allowed to be mad at me for taking them home-where there is no pool.
And a funny thing happened. Their attitude IMMEDIATELY changed. No longer was I the bad guy. And, again, I did what any good mom would do…I dragged it out as long as I could so that I could bask in the glow of hero worship—which was approximately 3 minutes.
And the best news of the day? I don’t have to drag them from the pool tomorrow—that’s Brian’s job.