Kiddo#2 had a field trip, and we heard about it for a week in advance. She planned it in every detail, except for the human factor.
For her birthday, Kiddo#2 received a CD player that’s also an alarm clock and a radio. As soon as she learned she had to be at school 45 minutes early for the trip, she told me she needed to set her alarm the night before so she would wake up in time.
This is a laugh: she needs to be out of bed by 7AM to make the bus, but she’s always up by 6:15. Regardless, we set her alarm for her, and all was well. The whole day before, and the night before, it was one endless stream of “field trip field trip field trip field trip field trip…”
At 5:30 we awakened to Kiddo#2 in our room in the dark, saying, “My alarm went off, and I don’t know how to shut it!” (Yes, she wanted to be up before we were.) Then she added, “It’s playing music and it’s really groovy!”
Groovy? Since when has anyone in my child’s hearing used the word “groovy”?
My Patient Husband returned to the bedroom and said, “I don’t know how that happened. I’d set it to the classical station.” When I asked what was playing, he said, “Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay.”
I sat up to extract myself from the bed, and the next thing I hear, Kiddo#2 is sobbing. I make my way down the hall to find her crying to my Patient Husband that she can’t go on the field trip. She won’t. It will be awful. Horrible. Terrible.
Why? I think because she couldn’t have snack on the field trip. They were going to bring a lunch, but no snack.
Groovy. Just what we needed. My Patient Husband suggested she have a big breakfast, and I said I’d pack her a big lunch. She still said it would be awful. I resorted to Parent Stall Tactic Number Fifty-Three, “I’ll bring you to school and you’ll have to tell the teacher yourself.”
(Parent Stall Tactic Number Fifty-Three works wonders, if you’re curious. I tried it on Kiddo#3 when he announced he wouldn’t go to preschool anymore. He carefully and politely told Mrs. D that he would not be coming to school today, and she said, “Oh. That’s a shame. Because I took down the tool set you wanted to play with.” You did? “Yes, it’s right in the middle of the car rug. I thought we’d have fun with it.” Oh, in that case, I’ll go right on in. I told her that only Nixon could go to China, and only Mrs. D could get K3 into the classroom. We haven’t had a problem since.)
Anyhow, the next hurdle was that she had to “dress in layers,” and once I showed her how to do that, all was well. She had a big lunch and a big breakfast and a big sweatshirt, she didn’t tell the teacher she didn’t want to go, and she got off on time for her big field trip.
Which, for the record, she loved. It was groovy.