I am sure that really isn’t shocking.

In school I was always the one with the pink slip on their way to the office for “talking too much.” Which is crap if you think about it because in elementary school they try to shut you up. In high school they stand you in front of the class for presentations.

The school system needs to decide what it wants.

On Tuesday morning I went on a class field trip. I really didn’t have a choice because if I didn’t go, I certainly wouldn’t be letting Charlotte go. I am, after all, an insane mother that refuses to let her 4 year old get in a school van.  And I love Charlotte’s school. But someone could hijack the van or there could be an earthquake or aliens could land or something.

See…insane.

So I sucked it up and went.

To an old folks home.

What’s the correct terminology here? Nursing home? It was a pimped out nursing home, mind you. We were walking down the hallways and I got a few peeks in some of the rooms. They were full on apartments in there. That moth ball and dust smell thing isn’t a lie though. That’s sadly the reality of old age.

But they had 2 bedrooms, living room, bathroom.

Being old seemed like a good gig minus that whole wheelchair, Alzheimers and no one to visiting you thing. And the impending doom of dying of course.

I wonder if they get maid service.

Before we left for the field trip, they warmed the kids up with a dance party. As you very well know Charlotte can indeed break it down. All the kids were in a circle and the teacher would let a few at a time get into the middle and dance while everyone else sang. Charlotte was busting out the cartwheels and street dancing. I think she threw in some bootie shake for good measure.  Its hard to explain to other mothers that no, I am not a stripper, I just dance a lot on my blog.

Then came this little boy:

And my child is singing nicely and clapping to everyone, but when this little boy did his dance, she started chanting his name. I felt like it transformed into the club. The kindergarten club.

“Go Antoine, Go Antoine”. She later told me is marrying him. Ever since her daddy told her that she cant actually marry him too, she has been trying to nail down a husband for herself. This boy has no chance to refuse. I think she is bigger then him.

At Least he is fashionable. Although that could be a sign they will never be dating.

———————–

Now I love my child. LOVE my child. But she isn’t the best singer because no child is a good singer. I’m not a mother that is going to pretend my child is some super talented pre-Christina Aguilera prodigy. She is a 4 year old. She sounds like a 4 year old. Listening to 25 kids sing jingle bells is cute, but it’s not flattering. I am assuming nursing home performances work the best because those people cant hear well.

Trust me, I’m not saying anything they don’t know already.

The kids get set up and everyone arrives and they plant Charlotte in the back, steroids in her milk and all, and she is singing her heart out.

But while she is singing she is doing everything BUT paying attention. She is messing with the girl with antlers on (not that I could blame her, its in her face, sheesh).

Cant. Keep. Her. Hands. To. Herself.

She kept grabbing the girl next to her to jingle the little bell around her neck. I think that girl was totally asking for it. She wasnt jingling herself.

Someone had to take control:

I have no excuse here.

This is just plain HAIR-assment.

In her off time she did some dramatic interpretation of  “Up on the house top”:

And of course mugged for the camera:

This girl seriously needs a sibling to annoy.

She’s got Only-Child-Itis.

~Trisha