Sometimes I wish I could post pictures of my little darlings for you all to enjoy. But, I wish to keep my job.
Today, we had a birthday in the room. You know what that means… yup… CUPCAKES!
Imagine this face (not my preschooler)…
… times 17. Somedays I love my job. =)
thanks stacy_brigham on flickr for posting this adorible photo.
Once upon a time, I was a girlie little girl; Ribbons in my hair, dresses, and shiny shoes were REQUIRED to leave the house. Pink was not just a color, but a LIFESTYLE! As I grew older, I came to realize it was a lot harder to keep up with the boys while keeping ones shoes pretty and dress clean. I traded the pretty and prissy-ness in for the still favorite Jeans and T-Shirt (the glitter obsession never fully left). Upon making the decision to be more of an active tomboy, I rejected all things girlie. This included my former favorite color.
Flash forward to Feburaray. Valentines Day is just around the corner, and it’s time to work on the little monkies’ painting skills. Giant paper hearts are cut out of the massive butcher block rolls, and pinned up to the door that we use as the easel.
“Kieran, you like the art area. We’ll put you in charge of painting.” I hear from across the room. Obviously, my jean and t-shirt get up is easier to clean than theirs are. It’s cool… if it stains, it’ll add character, right? I pull out the jugs of red paint that have separated since the last time they were used, and start shaking. “What colors should we do? Red for Valentines Day, but should we put out another one?” I ask.
“PINK!” the little voice below shouts. I look down to see J, the spitting image of myself at 4. She is THE absolute definition of girlie, and she’s smart and funny to boot. She is also holding the white jug of paint with a giant smile on her face. “You’ll need this!” I was hoping for something a with a little more contrast, like black. Why don’t we make black a Valentines color? Draw the Singles Awareness Day in to the schools. Sighing, I pour some red in the bowl and help J pour in some pink. Then, we mix it until the colors blend. J looks at me and makes a face. “It looks just like that peppermint stuff my mommy gives me when I have a tummy-ache.”
She was right – it did look an awful lot like Pepto Bismol, and it had the same consistancy to boot. Great. “Let’s add a little more white and see if we can make it in to princess pink,” I say as I reach for the white. We add another huge glop, and mix, and much to our surprise… it stays Pepto pink. How does that work?
J decided that she would settle for the “tummy medicine pink” and got her smock on. By this point, word had spread throughout the room about the painting area being open. Leaving the color physics, I spent the rest of the work time putting on smocks and doling out paper.
During clean up, J wanders over to help me hang up the pictures. After putting the last one on the wall, we step back to admire our work. I look over at her, and she is making her face again. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?” I ask. She looks at me. “It looks like somebody puked all over the walls.”
Curse you, Pink, yet again.
I work in as an AmeriCorps member in a Preschool. This still makes me laugh, because I spent my two years at college trying to stay as far away from Education as possible. That being said, I can imagine a better place to work. Even if it means exposing yourself to all sorts of little nasty things that can kill you.
I am speaking of course, of all the excretions that come out of small children. I have delt with boogers, pee pants, moving of the Poop in the Pull-up by hand in to the toilet (an on to.. and next to… etc), puke of various colors and textures, and of couse, blood.
We were in the gym. There were 5 kids, the teacher, and myself. The little boy got a bloody nose. Not a big deal – it’s the middle of March, the air is really dry, and he was running around. Upon wiping the new wet stuff off his face, and realizing it wasn’t sweat or snot, he had to deal with it in such a manor that only little boys can deal with such things.
G: MY HEAD IS LEAKING!!
Kiwi: No, it’s just your nose bleeding. Let me get you a tissue and you go sit down and relax. *starts walking to tissue box across room* Try to catch it in your hands so it doesn’t get all over your clothes and the gym mats.
G: I’M BLEEDING!! I’M BLEEDING!! *starts flipping hands around, thus sending pathogen carrying droplets far and wide.
Needless to say, I had to clean that up. Good Ol’ Green Machine… you’ve served me well here.
[Yes, I had a MUCH longer, and slightly funnier post on this... but silly me, still trying to figure out how to work wordpress... deleted it. Epic Fail]
