Every day, I pick up Tyler from school and ask him how his day went. And every day, he is silent.
Today when I picked him up, he said, “We had circles today. We stood up four times, then sat back down again. I spelled ‘w-o-r-m’ and ‘d-i-r-t’ on our magnets. But not ‘p-i-e,’ cause that’s not a word. My classroom has an easel, a kitchen, rubber bands, and cocoons. It goes ‘egg, caterpillar, chrysalis, butterfly.’ It’s a circle that never, ever ends!”
Finally, I am in the loop! At least, until he discovers that girls his age are way cooler, smarter, and far more glamorous than his mom.
I wish someone would force me to clean my plate, shove me into a nice, warm bath, jam me into a sleeper with feet and demand that I go to bed early.
A child’s curse: by the time they realize they have it made, they have kids of their own.