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Why Kindergartners LOVE Getting Sick

Today was a pretty cool day. I got to leave my kindergarten class with my favorite teacher’s aide and walk to the nurse’s office. Sure, I had a stomach ache and a phlegmy cough  but it was awesome to be out of the classroom hanging with the adults because, unlike my classmates, grown-ups never try to fling boogers on you.

Turns out I had a temperature, which means my mom had to leave her job and come get me.

Man, you would’ve thought she was the one who was sick…when she showed up at my school she was a frazzled mess.  I don’t know what’s the big flippin’ deal with having to “leave in the middle of an important meeting” to get me. Hell, I meet people all the time…what’s so goddamn important about it? You make some lame small talk and then you’re outta there.

Anyway, now I’m home, in my jammies kicking back watching TV. Sickness, you can’t beat it!

It always happens this  way. The second I get a high enough temperature I’m suddenly transported into a world of cozy blankets, food on demand, and the chance to eat a popsicle on the couch enjoying all-you-can-watch TV.

So different from the usual drill! Usually when I get home from school my mom works my fingers to the bone. Either I have to help empty the dishwasher (which means hurling all the spoons in with the knives and all the forks in with the spoons), clean my room (It’s AMAZING how much crap you can cram under one bed!) or do my homework.  All  so I can maybe watch one measly episode of my favorite show. My mom, ladies and gentleman, the world’s greatest rip-off artist.

But now, thanks to a sore throat and a funky stomach — and a cough which I play up like crazy —  I’ve just finished my 600th episode of iCarly and my mom has transformed into a middle-aged lady in waiting. Peel me a grape, mommy.

Oh, sorry…  I better wrap this up…my mom just showed up with yet another perk of illness: my favorite cherry-flavored medicine. Heck, if you’re ever in my ‘hood and you’re not feeling well come on over and we can throw back some Children’s Tylenol shots together!

What’s your favorite part of being sick?


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The After School Torture Chamber

I’ve been in kindergarten for three weeks now so I pretty much get the drill. School is freaking awesome. And it smells good. Unlike preschool, everybody in my class is potty trained so there’s not that lingering scent of poo wafting through the air. Yep, I’ve hit the big time.

What’s starting to reek is my mom’s daily after-school interrogations.

When I went to preschool she was pretty chill. She’d pick me up. I’d show her the 500 pieces of art I did that day and we were all good. Since kindergarten she bombards me with a zillion questions:

Do you have homework?  Did you eat all your lunch? Did you play with [fill in the blank with any random girl she met for 2 seconds during drop off] she seems like a nice girl. Do you like your teacher? What did you learn today? Do I look fat in these jeans?  Did you remember to bring home your sweater? What musical instrument do you think you’d like to play? Was your sweater warm enough? Who’s your best friend in class? Who did you eat your snack with? Who did you eat your lunch with? Who did you play with at recess?

AHHHH! MAKE IT STOP!! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look mom,  I don’t have time to be mentally waterboarded with your relentless B.S. I have a Turtle Race activity homework worksheet I have to bust through. Seriously it’s not like I ask her everyday how her dead end job is going. (I know the answer, anyway. It SUUUCKS.)

Her main concern, it seems, is that I’ve made friends at my new school. Which of course I have. You spend the day with 25  people exactly your same age and you’re bound to hang with someone. I’m beginning to think  my mom’s the one who doesn’t have any friends.

Take my birthday party schedule for example. Each month I’m invited to roughly 1,200 birthday parties. Every time I show up to one of my pal’s soirees she tags along. What the hell?!  She’s already there– because she drove,  so I use her for a lift home too — but holy sh*t doesn’t she have any friends her own age?! The worst is, at the end of the party, when I catch her rooting though one of my goodie bags for extra candy. Man, that woman can put it away. Hey, mom, I’ve got a question for you, “Should I start saving my pennies for your inevitable lap band surgery?

 


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Mom Ruins Kid’s Future on First Day of School

Sure, starting Kindergarten is great but not quite as awesome as wearing my mom down to get this iCarly backpack. . Don’t know if she’s excited about starting school or that she wore me down to get that iCarly backpack.

Yesterday was my first day of kindergarten. What was the best part you ask? My new school  has an entire bathroom filled with  TINY TOILETS! Stalls and everything!!  Truly awe-inspiring. The worst part? I think you know.

If my mom’s behavior surrounding my education is any indication of things to come I. Am. Screwed. She’s been a wreck. You should’ve seen her the night before, freaking out that I “have to get a good nights sleep!!” How the hell am I supposed to get any R.E.M. slumber with you stressing me out?! I’d pop an Ambien if I knew what one was.

When I  woke up in the morning she was hovering over me like a maternal lunatic (wait is that redundant?)  The first words out of her mouth? “You can’t start kindergarten on an empty stomach. YOU HAVE TO HAVE A GOOD BREAKFAST!!!!”  Get a grip woman, you’re almost putting me off my Trader Joe’s Strawberry Yogurt O’s.

Walking to my new school wasn’t any better… it was like being followed by the freaking paparazzi. She couldn’t stop taking pictures. I felt like doing a  “Sean Penn” on her and trashing her camera but since her camera is on her iphone which houses my favorite aps, Cake Doodle and Super Why, I restrained myself.  I’m no fool.

When I finally got out of her cloying clutches I happily lined up with my fellow kinders ready to finally be grown up. I look up and what do I see?  My mom  blubbering like a giant baby. FYI, I have the same attitude about babies that Madonna has about hydrangeas. I  loathe babies. What? Just me?