Busy day today. Both kids off to school so I tried to atone for a week of being housebound with a sick child. First, I pick up some forms from a language presentation by James’ preschool, then hit a Costco, Trader Joe’s and Target triple slam. On the way home I stopped by my daughter’s school to drop off her homework folder (that girl!) and register James for Kindergarten for the district. Then back home to unpack shopping items and have something to eat, punctuated by fielding phone calls.
Picked up James from the mainstream preschool. Heard that his SHAPE asst. might be losing her job with her home school district (damn budget cuts!). I play devil’s advocate and tell her if she’s interested, I’d love to have her for James’ assistant in the Kindergarten inclusion classroom next year and I’d even write it into the IEP that it’s been reported to me that he has done best with this particular assistant and that he needs he for his classroom aide. I’ve even approached the SHAPE supervisor with this possibility and was told it does happen sometimes. This might actually get off the ground …
Of course, James had wanted to play in the sand at said preschool. Of course the sand was muy wet after pouring down rain the past few days. So as soon as we got back home, I had to strip him down, de-sand him, and get him settled for a snack (with Benedryl) and some Baby Einstein (which helps his vocabulary, BTW). Still fielding phone calls. You don’t even want to know.
Half an hour later I swept up James, protesting all the way, and got him into bed for a much-needed nap. We read the two dinosaur books that he’s been loving lately: How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? (50 cents at a library sale) and How Do Dinosaurs Get Well Soon? (a gift from a wise person).
Fielding phone calls, yes. What IS it about today?
I got some laundry done and picked up the family room. I wanted to vacuum and blend myself up a smoothie before picking up James, because he still screams and cries at the sound of a blender. The hairdryer gives him the whim-whams. Just seeing the vacuum out makes him cry and run sobbing to his room “Nooooo vacuum? PEASE?!!” I plugged in the iron this morning and he started to cry and howl. The iron. Fah!
I ran out of time. There’s always tomorrow.
Query: I wonder if James would warm up to the vacuum if it had an ignition key and a steering wheel? Hmmmmm …