Ding Dong

This week in wtf-ness...

Wednesday afternoon there was a lot of silliness with the kids, mostly girls, who were still there at 4:45 or so.

They'd been running around the room and being loud. 

No one was doing anything wrong, just high energy going on. I got out the speaker and put on some dance music. That helped for a bit, but they decided on doing what passes for yoga in kidworld. If you've ever seen kids do their own yoga you'll understand. If not, well, it's funny. 

I had Maria, Bailey, Steffie and a few others. Maria was leading.

They were all doing some sort of downward dog except they were falling over on the rug in fits of giggles. Steffie sort of laid down on her tummy, hands a little below her waist.

Bailey got a horrified look on her face, took the four steps necessary to get next to her sister, drew her foot back and kicked Steffie in the upper thigh.

"Steffie!!! We do not ring the devil's doorbell!!!"

There were some surprised looks from the other kids, Steffie said indignantly, "I wasn't!" 

William was closer and reminded Bailey that we don't kick. 
Bailey said to him, "Our parents don't want us touching our dirty parts!"

Saying anything to them about my own thoughts on the matter is out of the question. They're not my children. 

Obviously I don't agree that a child should feel guilty about touching their own body. However. Having been raised as an Evangenital Christian, I understand the whole guilt thing. There's potential for guilt in almost every action a person can do. Some sins are worse than others, depending on which branch of the cult you're in, but it's standard to make a kid think feeling any kind of enjoyment while touching one's own self is sinful. A one way ticket to H-E double hockey sticks!

::sigh::

I also disagree with making one kid responsible for monitoring the other, whether implied or straight up told to. Bailey should not feel responsible for Steffie's actions. She shouldn't have to worry about whether her sister is 'sinning'.

The family is very kind. They've been appreciative of my efforts. The kids are adorable, intelligent, well-spoken and thoughtful. I enjoy their presence in my group. As with all of them, I consider it a privilege to be able to spend those hours with them every day. They're creative and funny, too. The idea that those sweet kids are carrying around the black cloud of fear of sinning over their heads at all times makes me sad for them.

I can't say anything or do anything about it.
Undermining parents is not part of my job description. 

Commentary on religious beliefs is also way outside the scope of my job.

Not easy to just observe and move on.

High-pitched Bears

First couple weeks of school means a fundraiser. 

When I was a kid, Scholastic Book Fair wasn't a thing.
We did order books every few weeks, though. We got a flyer that looked like this one, printed on cheap newsprint, and for a few days we huddled over them, imagining which ones we'd get and bringing our $2.99 in cash or check to the teacher.

Book order day was like Christmas. Everyone looked at what everyone else got and vowed to make different choices the next time.

Do you remember?

I don't know why they call it a book fair, it's more of a trinket and token thing.

The kids are more interested in the toys than the reading material, although they do buy books.  Diaries that lock with a minute silver key. LEGO books with a mini fig included. Spinning tops. Shark teeth. (those come with a book.) 

Mostly they buy silly toys that will go home to rooms bursting with other silly toys and the novelty will wear off and they'll be on to the next big thing in a few days.


At today's  book fairs, you get stuff like this. 

Goddamn Effin'  Poking Sticks

If you don't look at this photo and understand the soul-deep anguish the sight of one of them brings to me, congratulations. 

You're probably not working in After School.

And hey, if you didn't get a GEPS, how about a bear?

Shrieking Bears

Despite today's title and the photo caption, they're not electronic and they don't make sounds.
 
They're just jelly toys that look like Gummy Bears. 
But in the hands of the three girls who bought them, they found (loud, annoying, shrieking) voices of their own. 

In a tone that would either melt glass or ensure you'll never have earwax again, the bears 'talked' all afternoon. The girls made little paper houses for them, carried them around the playground while we were outside, took them to the sinks several times to wash them (that gummy stuff gets gross really fast) and generally were obnoxious.
I did ask them to play with them on the far table in the cafeteria, when they were closer to me the noise was giving me a headache.

I was ready to torch those stupid bears.

It's funny, though. It was a fad for a day or two, and I will almost certainly never see them again.

I'm okay with that. 
They're too loud.

And this is why I call them germy, booger-pickin', butt-diggin' little weasels. And Bobapalooza 2026.

Near the end of the afternoon yesterday, as we were all cleaning up the room so we could get the five o' clock box out, I glanced up to see Ethan (Kindergarten)  standing in the middle of the room with his pants and underwear at his knees. He was holding his waistband with his left hand and digging in his butt with the right.

Sheesh.

Couple of the kids were laughing, a couple more were saying, "DUDE!"

He looked around, perplexed, but pulled his pants up about the time I reached him.

"Ethan, what's up, Buddy?"

He looked at me, blinking his brown eyes, and said in explanation, "There's poop left in my butt and I was trying to get it."

"Okay, well, you can't do it out here where people can see you. Go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet and clean your bottom. Then wash your hands, okay?"

He wandered off, still looking confused.
Geez.

So while he was taking care of business, I called his dad. It was the end of the day anyway, but I wanted to get an idea of how far away he was and have him hurry a bit if possible. 

I mean really.

I always start a phone call that's not urgent with these words. "This is not an emergency." Getting a phone call from your child's day care can be scary.

Told him what was going on. 

He was apologetic, said he'd talk to Ethan about keeping his pants up in public. I told him that it was age-appropriate and that none of the other kids would bother Ethan about it. And that in the 22 years I've been doing this job, this isn't the first time that's happened.

Funny that he was more concerned about the little guy showing his butt than what was in his butt. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

You know the difference between inlaws and outlaws, right?
Outlaws are wanted.

Bob was here from September 5th to the 17th. 
I love the guy, but I know I've discussed that timing with him before.
Visiting us during the first few weeks of the school year is really a lot for me, personally. I'm tired, harried and hurried and not fit company for man or beast as they say. 

If you don't believe me, you can ask the man or beast I live with.
He'll tell ya, and he won't sanitize it. Ha.

Bob is 89. He'll be 90 in July. He's still mentally sharp, doing fairly well physically, too.

Good thing on the physical condition, since he caught some creeping crud on the airplane flight and brought for all of us to share. 

About that... Eric got the same respiratory crap. Lyssa also was ill. I got sick last weekend, ran a fever the entire two days and slept about 28 hours. No kidding. But I didn't get the respiratory stuff. In case you wondered. Now, back to the story.

Bob was hacking and snorting and congested. He's in decent shape for a guy his age, but pneumonia can creep up really fast and I was concerned. 

Eric took time off work to hang out with his father, so on Tuesday as I was leaving for work, I told him, "Your dad needs medical attention. He sounds awful. Don't take no for an answer, he needs to go to urgent care right now."

I was right. They started him on some serious antibiotics.
Couple days later he was feeling a lot better and told me that on the day I insisted he see a doctor that he was 'so weak he couldn't get up from his bed'. He explained that he had actually rolled out onto the floor and pulled himself up on a chair.

Ugh. 

Someone explain men to me? Maybe with small words and diagrams?

On October 14th, it will be 47 years since I met Bob. 

In that time, he has never said a negative thing to me. 
Not one. 

He complimented me on my children, thought they were wonderful (they are, just so we're clear) told me more than once that I am the best thing that ever happened to his son, and didn't say a word against homeschooling or anything else we did while raising our young humans. 

But if you'd told me 47 years ago that I'd be wiping up big ol' Bob Lung Cookies from the bathroom sink, I might have run away screaming.

No way of knowing now, I guess.

I think the lid is leaking...

Friday afternoon was mostly a normal afternoon.

I opened the program at my current school in 2023 so this is the beginning of my 4th year. 

During one of our group discussions, the kids asked if we could have 'stuffie day' sometimes. We decided to have it every Friday, the rule being that if you bring a stuffed animal to school, it needs to stay in your backpack all day because we don't want to disrupt classes.

"If any of your teachers tell me that it's a problem, we'll have to stop doing it, I don't want anyone getting into trouble."

They've never had an issue.

But some of them don't have stuffed animals they can bring or they forget. I have a bin of beanie babies that I've had since Lyssa outgrew them. It's on our Friday cart along with the dollhouse stuff, a bin of marble run and another bin that's full of fidgets. I try to rotate toys and other items so they have different choices as needed.

The room was extra noisy all afternoon. 
We ended up in the gym again instead of going outside, it had been raining off and on all afternoon and the playground was wet. As we were deciding whether to go out, it started pouring rain again anyway.

When we use the gym, everyone goes in for 20 minutes. After that, if they want to go back into the cafeteria, they can. I station myself in the doorway of the gym where I can see the door to outside, the kids in the gym and the kids in the cafeteria.

William stays in the gym with the kids who still want to run around and yell. It works out nicely, I love our program space.

We had a mass exodus of kids about 5:20. Suddenly my end of the room was almost silent. William was at a table next to the back door, playing a game with Shelly. She was the last kid.

I grabbed my laptop and finished the weekly report that I'm supposed to file, and that's when I realized I was hearing water dripping somewhere.

Not good at any time, but of particular concern because this past summer, they completely re-roofed our school. 

Great.

I left William in charge and went to find one of our custodians, but was unable to locate either one of them. 

I called our manager and told him what was going on. Asked him for a number for facilities or emergencies. He looked up a couple and texted me. The first number went to voice mail, so I left a detailed message and hung up. Called the second number, and while I was waiting for their message to finish, the phone let me know the first number was calling me back. Our phone is new this school year, so of course it's not familiar to me, and I was having a terrible time trying to disconnect the other call so I could answer the incoming one. 

After swearing to myself and poking/sliding 'buttons', I succeeded in hanging up on both calls.

Shit.

So I called the first number back. It rang and rang. I was going to hang up when she answered.

We agreed I'd put a sign on the wall where I heard the water and that she'd be sending out whoever was on call.

Everything got put away and I managed to limp on out to the parking lot. 
I was pulling out of my space when some guy came screeching in and parked in front of the gate.

I rolled my window down.
"Are you here about the leak?"

He was.

So I got out of my car and limped back into the building so I could show him where the noise had been coming from.

He wasn't thrilled, but commented on the fact that due to the three day weekend for the holiday and being on call his paycheck just grew a bit. When I left he had plans to get a ladder and remove some ceiling panels and was getting ready to phone a friend for help. 

So I saved our school. Or at least that part of it.

If our kids had been picked up in their usual fashion, I probably wouldn't have heard the water, as it wouldn't have been quiet at my end of the room. For whatever reason, things worked out.

It certainly doesn't make our company look bad, does it?

Weak One

That's not a typo. 

This is biographical, after all. 
Ha.
I'm feeling a little weak this evening. 
Getting too old for this, I think.

I read back over this post three times and I know it's supposed to make sense but it might be a little chaotic. 
Haha, welcome to my after school world!


Okay, first week of school. 
We started on Tuesday, September 1st.. 
No school on Monday, August 31st. 
::shrug::

It's weird. A four day week, a three day weekend and then another four day week. I would actually like that to be our regular schedule, but when people are making plans, they don't consult me for some reason.

I have most of the same kids this year. Only one new one this week, although six more new kids are scheduled for next week. I'll have four kindergartners to add to the mix. The new kid has a boy's name, but was listed as a girl on the forms. I caught up with Dad to ask about it. It really doesn't make a difference to me, but if there's a medical emergency, I should know what's going on. Dad was sheepish, he had checked the wrong box. The next time I opened the app, it had been corrected. Super nice kid, too. He's 9, so I think he's a 4th grader, but I haven't asked him yet.

One of kids who was supposed to start this week needed a parent to complete some paperwork so I'll be seeing her next week, one didn't understand they were fully registered and didn't show. Both things are figured out, I think. 

In the case of the 2nd kid, he was supposed to be there because he was on my schedule, but he did not arrive with the rest of the gang. So I had to figure out why. 
I called both parents and didn't get an answer from either one. I don't answer my phone if I don't recognize the number, either. Can't blame them.

They did call me back eventually, but I had to physically visit the front desk to let them know I had a kid missing.

Our legal ratio is 1:15, and we had 19. So for me to go check with the school office, I had to take four of my kids with me. During school dismissal the office staff is coordinating with all the teachers and making sure the pickup line and bus line kids are going where they're supposed to. There's also a meet location for the walking kids. The gym is full of kids who ride various day care vans to other after school programs (none of which are as good as mine, seriously). There's a great deal of foot traffic everywhere in the building. 

It's not quiet in case you wondered.

To add to the fun, two kids showed up on Tuesday who weren't on my schedule at all. They kind of stood there, looking mystified. One had arrived with Maria, and they were looking forward to hanging out together, I think.

I had to escort them to the school office so they could safely reach their after school destinations. 

This afternoon, I finished signing kids in on our app and did the standard head count. I had 18 kids signed in and there were 19 kids in the room. 

So I counted again to make sure I hadn't made a mistake. Nope. 19. I grabbed the tablet to do a match up, but then I saw him. A kid in the construction zone who did not belong there.

I walked over to the carpet and stood next to him. He had dived into one of the LEGO bins and was happily putting pieces together, talking to his friends as he did.

"Buddy, where are you supposed to be?"

"Mrs. K said I'm supposed to go to the cafeteria," he answered. "She said after gym class we should be in the cafeteria."

He was a little guy. First grade. Our cafeteria and gym are separated by a big open hallway, and there are kids going all directions after their PE class. His class had been in the gym, and his teacher probably said to meet outside the cafeteria, but his little guy brain didn't catch all of the information.

I told him that he was not part of my group and that I needed to take him to the office so he could go home and not have his parents be worried about him. 

"Did you have a backpack, Buddy?"

He did. He had walked in with the other four first graders from his class, followed their lead and stowed his backpack and lunch box and had washed his hands. 

The only thing he hadn't done is stop by my table and check in. I would have noticed him about two minutes sooner if he had. There was no harm done, the buses hadn't even left yet.

I didn't embarrass him and he seemed okay with the idea that he wasn't one of my group. 

He did tell me as he skipped beside me on the way to the office that, "I have never seen that many magnatiles or that much Legos!"

Cute. 

I've already seen a bit of the mean girl stuff come out, it seems to be numbers-based, as it usually is. If there are four of the 4th/5th grade girls, they usually manage to figure out ways to have fun and be mostly nice to each other.

But add in another one, or any of the younger girls and it turns into a different kind of thing. If I were a sociologist, I'd probably try to figure it all out, but mostly what I do is damage control. 

Discussions with the ringleader.
"How would you feel if Kyra said those things to you?"

The usual answer is, "I wouldn't care!"

Then I tell them I know for a fact they DO care, as a similar situation has happened before. And that they came to me for help.

Yesterday it was the damn Zoobs. One of them made a vehicle, four of the others made the same one, but when kid number five wanted to, Maria was suddenly all about, "HEY! Stop copying me!!!"

We had a little group discussion about the extent of what we're in charge of, and I made sure they understood they don't get to tell other people how to construct a toy. 

"It's none of your business if Bailey wants to make her creation look like yours. The only control you have over the Zoobs is what you design for you to use. You don't get to decide that for anyone else."

I got out the washable oil pastels that were gifted to me by one of my readers back toward the end of the school year. None of the kids had ever used them before, which is understandable as the usual variety is greasy and doesn't wash off. 

These are incredibly washable and bright. All of the participants loved using them. Steffie ran to her dad with her picture yelling, "Daddy Daddy!" as she zipped across the room. "I got to use REAL ART STUFF!! Look at what I made!!"

We had done a 'get to know me' project. Line art, with each square meaning something, drawn in Sharpie, and then colored and blended with pastels. They all want to try it again. 

Here's my example. Bottom right is 'loves rainbows'. The one in the middle of the second row is 'likes seashells'. They're not a drawing of anything in particular, just an exercise in how to use pastels/sharpie. 

Fun project.

Zippee!!

Ever hear of the Pee Zipper?

Well, thanks to the magic of blogging, you have now.




These pants are made for hiking/backpacking. You don't have to pull them down to pee. Or presumably to perform any other lower bodily function. 
Just unzip 'em and squat. 

As a person who has girl parts, no thanks. 
First of all, is one expected to go commando? Because you can't just squat and move your underwear aside for a little tinkle. 

And what if you have to do something more... substantial? 
Can you really trust that your pants are out of the way?

Guess that's not a problem, as it's repeated a couple times that these garments are washable and they dry really fast!

(Translation: When you pee on your pants, it will dry quickly.)

Also, let's discuss zippers. I know more than one male person who has accidentally zipped their little friend. From what I hear, that isn't a lot of fun and they really don't want to do it again.

I have never zipped any part of my flaps anatomy-that-makes-me-a-girl, and I really don't care to start now. Zippers should be located in areas where they don't have the potential to cause a person deeply personal physical harm. 

The rest of the reviews on the website are positive (of course) and you can even watch a video of a line of 4 women in a well-rehearsed unzip fest. It looks like they're digging in their butts at first. Which I suppose could be another selling point. Scratching your bits without having to disrobe. Plus you can order a Kula cloth to hang off your backpack. That's right, you don't even need toilet paper!

I need toilet paper, though. And then I need to wash my hands with soap and water. 
Call me a shrinking violet, but yeah.
(See also: shrieking harpy.) 
Whatever.
Still want that TP, soap, and water.

Who is wearing this stuff? And for $148.00??? For ONE PAIR of pants? 

Every day there's something else interesting out there.
Some things really *are* out there, though.

I end up with more questions than I have answers.