Oh those goddamned doors....

So after Wednesday's incident where little Sarah got her finger caught in the big doors, we had a little safety talk as a group in the afternoon.

I like having discussions with the kids. I don't do it 'right', though.

Instead of making them all sit on the big rug and listen to me while I stand over them, I have them all sit at a table instead. Most days we have enough room at one table, although occasionally sometimes a few have to sit in the overflow area... the homework table.

In that cozy little setting, we chat.

Yesterday's discussion was about safety in general. We do drills, fire and earthquake and other things. I make sure the kids know the code to unlock the telephone although they can use it to dial 911 without knowing how to unlock, I just feel like it's a good idea for them to know how to use the phone.

We talked about safety, and why we do drills. I tell them that one of the reasons people panic when there's an emergency is that they don't know what to do. So because we talk about safety and what to do, it makes them stronger. Able to take care of themselves and each other. They can handle most things with confidence.

Anyway. Started out with digression this time. Sorry.
I'll get back to the subject.

One of the things we talked about was being safe with the big doors. It hasn't ever been an issue until this year. For whatever reason... different mix of kids, too many boys, the ratio of small kids to bigger kids... I don't know... the doors are a problem this year. Once in awhile I've sported a pretty good bruise from flinging out an arm to catch the door so that it didn't connect with a child's head. A bruise on my arm is preferable to one on a child, of course, and I'm aware of safety all the time, I have to be.

So while we were standing in line to go wash our hands, a process that involves leaving our area through a big set of double doors and entering another hallway through a set of big double doors, I talked to the kids about what had happened to Sarah's finger. They listened carefully to me. They all had big eyes and serious faces and were quite careful with the doors.

That was yesterday.
::sigh::

This afternoon we managed to get outdoors for a little while. When we go back into the building, we go to the other hall to wash up after playing outside.

They were in such a rush to get in the door that they were letting it close on the person behind them. I reached out to grab the door just as a child ran up on the other side. He smacked the door with both hands (no, I have no idea why) and even though my arm shot out to block it, it still hit one of my littles in the nose. No blood, thank goodness. But he cried. Because it really hurt. The poor guy. Had I not reached out so quickly, I am scared to think of what would have happened to his little face.

Dammit.

So I lined them all up against the wall in the hallway and lectured them. I wasn't mad, they were just being kids. Part of that means being careless. Goes with the territory.

I said, "Stop! Everybody freeze. Joe, that means you, too. Evan, stop bashing into Harry and get over here. Freeze. Joe, that's not freezing. Freeze. That means voices off, Ellie." When I finally had their attention, I said, "You guys, look at Jason!!" Jason was still crying and rubbing his little nose. The door had hit his glasses, too. It was not a good thing.

"Everyone was in a huge hurry and you forgot to watch out for your friends. I tried to grab the door but someone ran into it. This isn't good. So from now on, we're going to have a door holder. Every time we go wash as a group, someone is going to hold the door. We'll take turns. This," and I gestured to Jason,"is unacceptable."

When I got home tonight I rolled up my sleeves and washed my hands. Last thing I do before leaving work, then the first thing I do when arriving at home again. If there's any way to avoid catching that goddamned norovirus again, I will.

Anyway, I reached up to grab the towel and noticed the big bruise on my right arm.

And once again, I reiterate that a bruise on my arm is preferable to one on a child.

But that doesn't mean I like it.