New School

The monkeys started their new school on Monday. (Technically they went three days last week for “play days,” but Monday was the first “work day.”) As I hobbled after them on my crutches, I ran into several friends—The Admiral, Shiloh, Uele, Mempho Maniac. It was really nice to lots of familiar faces.

Despite having run wild in the school for three days the previous week and now being surrounded by kids they knew, the monkeys pulled their shy routine. Before I knew it they were burying their heads in my coat refusing to make eye contact with anyone. When I tried to wrangle myself free, they each attempted to scale a crutch and somehow lodge themselves in my underarms.

Eventually I was able to break free. I had planned to meet Warren at the house after work, get the camera, and do a little photo shoot when we picked them up, but I had to work late. I called Warren at 5:45pm to see how the pick up went and he informed me that it went fine and that there was a parents meeting at 6:30pm.

“A what?” I asked.

“A parents meeting,” he said.

Part of me thought it was cool in the whole Yay! Parental Involvement! way, but part of me was tired and desperately wanting to eat dinner with my broken leg propped up on something soft.

I met Warren and the monkeys at home to regroup in the fifteen minute window before we needed to go back to the school. Thankfully Warren had made chili the night before, so they were attempting to have a quick bite.

“How was school?” I asked.

“Fine,” they said matter-of-factly.

“Satchel said he didn’t learn anything,” Warren said.

“Huh?” I was too tired to grasp my little one’s sarcasm. As I fixed myself a bowl of chili I said, “I’m so tired and my leg hurts so bad I could just cry.”

Satchel looked up from his dinner and smiled at me. “Let’s make a plan to cheer you up!” he said enthusiastically.

That totally cracked me up as it wasn’t something he ever said prior to attending his new school. I tried to have a better attitude about the impending meeting (which ended up being quite informative…and just a tiny bit loooooooooooooong.)

This morning when I dropped the boys off I was feeling very positive about our new school. I was looking forward to getting to know more of the other parents, helping out at fundraisers, and learning more about the Montessori method. I even pictured myself leading the parents meeting one day.

Satchel interrupted my reverie by asking, “What does h-e-l spell?” (He often strings together random letters and asks me what they spell.)

“Nothing,” I said.

“No, what does h-e-l spell?” he insisted.

“It doesn’t spell anything,” I repeated.

“WHAT DOES H-E-L SPELL?” he asked again, getting agitated.

I took a deep breath and slowly said,” It doesn’t spell anything. It could be half of the word ‘hello’ which is spelled h-e-l-l-o.”

“Half of hello is hel!” he said excitedly.

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled cautiously.

“Hell is where Chucky lives!” he said.

Oh god. “Please don’t tell any of your new teachers that,” I said.

When I got to work I called Warren and relayed this story. “Where did he get that from?” he asked innocently.

“Um, maybe he got it from watching Chucky with you the other night!” I said accusingly.

“Satchel didn’t watch Chucky with me,” he said. “That was Jiro.”

“Oh! That’s so much better!”

“Who’s picking them up today?” he asked.

“You are!!”