Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Preschool, pimples and other torture
Preschool at 9am, there's parents, teachers, kids and siblings. Bags, water bottles and lunchboxes flying around. Some kids are crying, others are throwing things. It's chaos at its finest.
There are two kids at Lil-lil's preschool who have assigned themselves to making my job tougher (don't they realise I already have 3 who do a stunning at job?). They see me, glue themselves to my side and trip me up with their chubby feet and curly questions as I try to wave goodbye to Lil.
"Corinne, how old is the baby?" The same kid has been asking me this everyday since I was six months pregnant.
"How did the baby get out? Did it hurt?"
"Why does the baby eat your boobs? Can he eat an apple?"
"Does Lil have head lice?"
"What is that big red thing on your forehead? It looks sore."
"Your tummy is really big, do you have another baby in there? Are you sure? I think you might."
Then while dodging questions about my adult acne and oversized girth (which, believe me, is always a pleasure), I'm trying to stop snotty-nosed kids from smothering D with their crusty fingers. All while gathering up Goosey before she tips a puzzle all over over the floor (that I'll struggle to put back together) and say goodbye to Lil.
It must be something about five year olds, as dropping Goosey off is a pleasure in comparison. One thing for sure, I'm not cut out to be a preschool teacher!
Have you had other people's kids ask you 'interesting' questions?