Yesterday Truett and I took Maddie to swim lessons. When we arrived at her school, I eagerly walked into the preschool. Once inside I was bombarded by toddlers of many different ages, sizes, shapes and colors. I did see a few adults shouting a name here or there, wandering among the throng of tiny people. I had to keep focused because the teacher in me wanted to investigate each class to see what the children were doing, what they were learning, or just out of plain curiosity. By 5:00 p.m., some of the children were cranky. One was crying while others raced around a long table with toy cars in their hands, shreiking, "Vroom! Vroom!"
Finally, I made my way past miniature tables, couches, bean bag chairs, boxes of rubber dinosaurs and blinking computer screens. I stepped over fire trucks and books on insects and snakes. At last Maddie's teacher saw me and shouted, "Maddie, your grandmother is here!" Well, that did it. All bedlam broke loose. As Maddie ran to me with a smile from ear-to-ear, her classmates ravaged her locker, pushing each other out of the way to grab Maddies things.
"Here's Maddie's baving suit," one little boy shouted as he ran to me with the bathing suit flying like a state flag flapping in the wind. Then..."Here's her brawings," one girl said as she shoved them into my leg. Busy little bodies learning to share and being responsible.
"Back up," I stated as the toddlers swarmed me like worker bees.
"That's mine!" Maddie shouted as she snatched her bookbag away from a child. "My pictures!" she whined.
By this time, I'm looking for an escape route to the little girl's bathroom to change Madeline into her bathing suit. I grab Maddie's hand and lead the way, all the while trying not to step on tiny toes. We rush inside and I give out a sigh. "We made it," I whisper and I begin pulling her dress up and her panties down.
Suddenly, wham! The bathroom door flies open and a tiny boy and girl rush in. "I have a bathing suit," the girl says. "Go back out," I say and pull the door shut. There are no locks on the bathroom doors, so I block the doorway until Maddie is fully in her suit. Finally, we leave and on our way out, children run to touch Maddie on the arm and as we leave I hear, "Bye Maddie," from multiple voices in multiple cracks and crannies.
Then the Queen Bee and I leave. "Safe," I sigh as we head toward the car where we see Maddie's favorite worker bee of all...Grandaddy.
She really is a Queen Bee -- good description. I think you described the preschool-chaos pretty accurately. When I pick Maddie up, I always breathe a sigh of relief when I'm back in the calmness of my car.
And, by the way, the Queen Bee was put to bed angry and unhappy last night, but she was a new child this morning - sweet as could be. Sorry you had to witness the ugliness that is THREE last night.
Posted by: Merry Jennifer | July 27, 2007 at 12:35 PM