Friday, April 8, 2011

In which I ought to buy a new carpet for Circle Time, but don't.

Alternate Title: The Gingerbread House Story.

I'm gastronomically prepared to tell you this story now.

I think.

It is set during the last week of school before Christmas, around 3:45pm.
Key Background Information:

Typically, hand washing is the first thing I send Alex off to do the second she walks in the door.
Recently, it's come to my attention that it is necessary to specifically insist that she needs to use not only soap, but water as well.
Who knew?

On this fateful day, there was a lot of commotion at Alex's arrival home. Josh was home (a Christmas miracle!), Derek was just getting up from his nap, and somehow I neglected to instruct Alex to go wash her hands.

She came in the door carrying a gingerbread house on a plate, and was very excited to taste some of the goodness.
My sweet tooth was in full effect, and I proceeded to violate a statute of my own on which I typically hold firm: never eat anything a child has made.


But you see, there were some yummy chocolates stuck inside icing.
And I love chocolate.
And icing.

So we all started digging in.
Me, Alex, and Josh.
Derek was spared since he is allergic to the world and who knows what manner of death was stuck to that gingerbread house for my little walking hive.

Josh ate the walls. Graham crackers covered with icing.

I chose the peanut M&M's (see? Death for Derek).

Alex preferred the Mike&Ike's.

Then I declared that it was time to take a break from the gingerbread house consumption, as I planned to serve the rest of it as the vegetable to go with dinner. I asked Alex to bring me her school folder and we snuggled up on the couch together to look at the millions of pieces of paper that she brings home everyday and insists that we keep.

I can't tell you how many times she's caught me having thrown some away, and looked at me with those pitiful eyes. "Mommy, I worked really hard on that and you just threw it in the trash."

Mother of the Year.

So there we were on the couch, and I kept getting a sniff of something unpleasant.
I sniffed around and could not figure out what it was.
I sniffed some more.
I was like a hunting dog.
I sniffed and sniffed, until I realized that the smell was coming from my daughters fingernails.

Oh, the horror that followed.

Me: Alex, your fingers smell gross. What is that smell? 
Is that poop?!?!
Do I smell poop on your fingers?!?

Alex: Well, during quiet time I thought I had to go poop. But we're not allowed to go to the bathroom at quiet time, so I put my hands in my undies to feel if I had any poop. Then I smelled my fingers to see if there was poop on them.

Me: *Dying a thousand deaths of horrified wretchedness.*

Me: And did your fingers smell like poop? (as if I did not already know the answer to that one)

Alex: Yes.

Me: So what did you do? Did you ask to go to the bathroom and wash them?

 Alex: Well we're not allowed to talk or go to the bathroom during quiet time, so I just wiped my fingers on the circle time carpet.

I have no words.

Really. No words.

And because I feared that I could not stomach the answer, I chose not to ask the question that still burns in my mind.

Did she make the gingerbread house before or after quiet time?

I have to go now. I think it was too soon to talk about this.
Must purge. 

Also, I'm thinking of investing in some sort of haz-mat shower for the doorstep to decontaminate her each time she comes home from school. Because if that is what my daughter did, what other horrible things have happened in that classroom?

The End.


Sandy said...

i am too traumatized to comment :-\

Taylor said...

Oh, dear.

Kara said...

Bwahahaha! Love it! I'm sending my oldest to kindergarten in the fall... oh man, the things I have to look forward to!

Jennifer said...

Ewwwww!!!! You should soooo tell this story at her wedding... Ok, maybe not ;)

Erin said...

That is EXACTLY why we homeschool ;)

Bobbi said...

My Emma starts kindergarten this Fall...I'm afraid...very afraid. I want to laugh...but...it's just too scary!

Mindee@ourfrontdoor said...

I work at an elementary school and, well, you just don't want to know.

Katie said...

I think it is even funnier to read! I told my mom about this story while she was here and we both busted up laughing. Only becuase it wasn't my kid. Homeschooling never sounded so good!

Sandy@Life Began In A Garden said...

Oh, the HORROR!!!

Jen Hammon said...

Oh my......

Joyce said...

I had no words the first time I read this. Still don't. I will say that when ya gotta go ya gotta go and hopefully the teacher can communicate that is okay to your daughter. Still...shudder! I taught school...I once observed a group of students bake me a cake as a going away gift. Then they wanted me to eat it. On the spot. Yikes!

The Passionate Housewife said...

LOL! Either I am super tired or this was more funny than nasty! (both possible since I have a newborn in the house which equals tired and I have borne 3 boys which means I have seen my fair share of nasty!)

My kids got out of bed to find out why I was giggling so much!

I have missed reading you!

Thanks for the laugh tonight!

Brenda said...

As a former teacher who has dealt with poop smearers.....I am still traumatized reading this. :)