Okay, I get it – summertime is magical. It’s a time when children get to run free, experience the great outdoors, and spend lots of quality time with their parents and siblings.
You know what? Enough, already. We’re ready. Preschool and PDO? Let’s get this party started. STAT.
Side note: I’m pretty sure we attend the only preschool in town that doesn’t start until after Labor Day. If we didn’t love it there so much, we’d switch. Eh, we probably wouldn’t switch. That sounds like a lot of research and work, and I’ve got Kindergarten next year to worry about.
My kids are sick of running free (because, let’s be honest – I’m their mom and they’re young, so “running free” is a very loose term around here. More likely, I’m asking them to “walk quickly and stay where I can see you.”). This past week it felt like hot soup outside, so we are inside
watching television reading books. No, I can’t even lie. We’re watching television. And if I have to listen to “Cinderella III: A Twist in Time” once more, I’m going to “Bippity Boppity Boo” myself in the head.
And quality time? Pshaw. We have had so much quality time this summer that these girls have reverted back to having separation anxiety. Not only do they suddenly seem unable to play without my support, they have decided they each need to be touching me. All the time. (Did I mention that it’s as hot as the surface of the sun outside?)
With the difficult summer we’ve had, these children have been under-stimulated and under-supervised. They need teachers. I need alone time. We need to remember how much we love each other again. And, Preschool? That’s where you come in.
I think this picture from late last week sums it up pretty well:
Do you see what these girls are doing? They are SWEEPING THE BACKYARD. This is what we have resorted to, people. They were sick of playing outside (I mean, who gets sick of playing outside? Do you see the huge swing set? The picnic table? The sandbox? The garage full of toys? They were bored. “Bored,” they said!!!).
So, I handed them brooms and told them to get to work. They thought it was fun, believe it or not. (And, no, Paige is not wearing her helmet to be safe – she was riding her scooter. I’m a worrywart, but not THAT bad!).
I guess if we can’t have fun, we’ll at least be productive.