Malingering

This morning JR made his first ever attempt to skip school by pretending to be
sick. He's been off for 3 days (Friday was a teacher in-service
day). On Friday, he refused to get out of his pajamas all day and told us Rudolph (his stuffed reindeer who goes everywhere with him) was sick. We took his temperature, and the thermometer never got put away. Since his asthma has been acting up a bit, we've also been monitoring him a bit more closely anyway. Apparently, all of these events coalesced in his little mind as a perfect ploy for staying home from school. So when he awoke this morning, we had the following conversation:

JR: I need to take my temperature because I'm sick and can't go to school.
Mom (knowing his temp is perfectly normal): Okay, but let's get
dressed first. Then, if the thermometer says no fever, you will be
all ready for school.

We completed our morning routine. Then, 2 minutes before we're supposed to leave the house:

JR: Mom, you forgot to take my temperature.

I took his temperature. Temperature is normal.

JR: But Rudolph is sick and needs me to take care of him.
Mom: (Checking Rudolph's brow): Rudolph's temperature is okay too.
Maybe Rudolph is just saying he's sick because he'll miss you today.
Maybe you should take him to school with you.

Which he did. Apparently, Rudolph spent the day watching JR from his cubby, cuddled up in JR's wool hat. Rudolph had a "whole big invisible preschool" inside the cubby, according to JR, but he got to come out and snuggle with JR at naptime.

Distracted

I was so caught up this morning in discussing the schools dilemna (Joseph's lottery ticket for the public schools we liked came up short, but he did get into a fabulous private school and there is still the option of the cozy Catholic school and ....) that I dropped JR off at the preschool but carried his lunchbox all the way to my office.

Once I realized I still had his Spiderman lunchbox in my clutches, I called my supervisor to let her know I'd be late, found an ATM so I'd have money to pay the cab which I then hailed, and ran the lunchbox back out to the preschool.

Back at my desk, I opened my calendar to discover that I wasn't supposed to be in the office at all. I had a doctor's appointment scheduled and was now 5 minutes late!

I know I'm obsessing over the whole kindergarten issue - but I hope my scatterbrain morning is not predictive of how my next few months are going to go (until this is all resolved).

It's only kindergarten, right?

Typical Morning

JR wakes up smiling and happy. "Mommy, I love you." "Daddy, I love you." We get dressed (much discussion of which shirt to wear; the one with the football player, the one with the truck or the one with the superhero on it). We go downstairs to eat our cereal. If there is any time left before our departure (me for work, JR for preschool), he gets to watch TV while I gather up the detritus that accompanies us everywhere.

Then the fun starts. JR doesn't want to wear the black VANS sneakers, he wants to wear his "light-up sneakers", which are now a half-size too small. He doesn't want to wear a jacket. "I'll wear my hat. That will keep my whole body warm." He doesn't want to walk, he wants to ride in the stroller. As his volume increases, my stress level ratchets up. How do I not give in to the temper tantrum when I really need to keep to the schedule so that I can arrive at work on time (otherwise, I don't work enough hours to be able to leave work on time to meet the preschool's rigid 5:30 p.m. pickup schedule)? How do I remain the calm, loving mother and not turn into "Mean Mommy"? Why oh why, when I purchased the SUV of strollers, did I not factor in how heavy it would be to push when loaded down with a 40 lb. 4-year-old?

There he is, all 40 lbs., tears streaming down his face, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor. "Stroller, Mommy, stroller. I can't walk. I need to sit. My legs don't work."

"My legs don't work." Someday this will be funny, right?