Well, life is always interesting at the preschool. Tonight a father came in to pick up his child. We like it (a lot) when parents actually take interest in their children, particularly when contrasted with the other parents who walk in, on their cell phones, pick up their child and their child's things, and then walk out, still on cell phone. Even worse is bluetooth. Then they look like they're talking to the teacher, but they're really not.
Anyway, we like it when parents take interest in their child's life. But there is a line. A fine line. The father crossed that line tonight. Apparently, the child had diarrhea yesterday. The father asked about what the child ate today, and then he went in to discussing poop. As in using the word "stool." I don't do that word less than an hour before dinner, unless in reference to something I stand on to reach the linguine on the top shelf that only dh can reach.
After the delightful conversation that seemed to be prolonged by my intense attempt to stifle laughter as the child's teacher tried to grasp for answers to the father's questions, we watched them walk to the door. And as they walked, the child wasn't paying attention and walked into the wall. One second he was walking, the next he was flat on the ground. It was one of those things where he almost bounced off of it and was like "when did they put a wall here?" Steve Martin or Jackie Chan movies have nothing on him. I just about died laughing.
hmm... now that I write it, it was not that funny... I guess you had to be there...
Tomorrow night - 1 vs 18. Be there and wear white.
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