One Ordinary Day . . . With Scribbling

A Blast from the Past in honor of my scribbling-hater becoming a mother, any day now. . . 

I left work later than I should have. I took a phone call when I should have been finishing up everything for the day.

As I pulled up to the nursery school I could see there was only one child left! IMG_2162

My daughter, however, was not upset, she was happily chatting to the teacher, who looked at her watch and sighed as I screeched into a parking space.

“I’m sorry,” I shouted. I jumped out and ran to my four-year-old daughter, high heels tapping on the pavement (signaling a trip to the shoe repair man must be added to the chore list for later in the week). I caught her up in a hug and she smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

She slid down and picked up her stack of papers from the stairs. I grinned as she skipped back to the car next to me. I joined her in the last skip and she laughed as my heels made their clicking sound.

“What did you do that was fun today?” I asked, knowing I needed to ask specific questions in order to elicit any information whatsoever about the day.

“The whole day was fun!” she said.

As I backed the car out of the space she rummaged through her papers.

“I made a new friend today. Jenny. She is so nice. We played at the water table and she made me a present. It’s in with my art work.”

She held up a sheet of construction paper with a huge smile on her face.

“That’s pretty honey, what is it?” I asked, as I glanced back at her, on the way to looking out the side view mirror.

I caught her frowning in concentration as I looked back at the road ahead of us.

“Hmmm, I am not sure.”

She turned it upside down and looked at it again.

“I forget what she told me it was.”

She rotated it clockwise.

“I don’t know what it is.

‘“It doesn’t look like anything!

“Hey, it ISNT anything at all, it’s just scribbling!

“I HATE SCRIBBLING.

“Wait, I hate scribbling and she KNOWS I hate scribbling. I think she gave me this SCRIBBLING just to make me mad.

“What a mean kid. How could I think she was my friend? I was so nice to her and she DELIBERATELY gave me scribbling.

“Just to make me mad. Well she did it!

“I AM MAD! Because I hate scribbling!”

 

How quickly the tide turns!

I stifle a giggle as I try to right the ship.

Yes, it was a great day.

 

Copyright janefcollen September 2009

 

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