Kinder Monster

And then there's Xanthe.  Thank heavens she had ballet this morning after we waved good-bye to the other kids.  The one excruciating hour between ballet and kindergarten almost put both of us over the edge.  While I worked on a violin, Xanthe managed to watch ten minutes of Curious George, moaning and fretting the whole time and finally turning it off, saying, "I WON'T watch it!  I'm hungry!"  I fixed her some French toast and she screamed for the duration of the 30 seconds it took to microwave it, "It's done!  It's done!  It's done, Mom!  Take it out!  It's done!"  She had a fit trying to open the peanut butter, then another fit when I helped her.  Next item on her agenda:  crying about not being able to spread the peanut better, then trying to wipe it off the French toast when Mom spread it.  I'm not kidding, I was thinking, "What's 18 minus 5?  Thirteen?  Only 13 more years until she leaves home."  That seemed like a big number, so I focused on eleven, the number of minutes until we could leave to walk to the school.  You're probably thinking, "Oh, poor Xanthe, she's just scared about the first day of school and her mean mother has no patience."  Yeah, have you ever actually spent an hour alone with Xanthe?  I literally thought she was going to have a stroke.

Like magic, Xanthe was all smiles as soon as she put on her backpack and started up the street.  She was still nervous, though, as evidenced by the barrage of questions.  "Where is my desk?  What does my teacher look like?  What if you're not there when I get out?  What if I get lonely?  Do I need crayons?  Who will be there?"  As soon as Scott and I dropped her off, I bolted home to finish my work, but ended up making chocolate chip cookies instead.  I'm a chocolate chip cookie junkie and I needed a fix!  As soon as I had wolfed down five big spoons of dough and inhaled a dozen cookies, I could almost think clearly.  Clearly enough to look at the clock and calculate that I had to be at the school in 4 minutes to pick up Xanthe.

"I  have a picture in my backpack and my teacher gave me a nametag and that kinnergarten was weally short and I'm weally hungry where's my snack and what should I do now and what are you going to do are you going to watch me have my snack and I want the windows rolled up and I want to listen to the 'cital music and when do the kids get home are they having lunch now where are we going?"  She's baaa-aaack!

Five minutes after we walked in the door, a mom from up the street called wondering if Xanthe could play.  Can she EVER!  I nearly sprained an ankle running for the car, dragging Xanthe by the arm.  We squealed to a halt in front of the friend's house and I shoved Xanthe out the door with a bag of cookies to share.

They say childhood is fleeting.  I'll tell you what's fleeting.  An hour of kindergarten, that's what.