Thursday, September 3, 2009

One of Those Moments

I usually love my job... but really.

Yesterday was a decently calm morning. Until...

There's one girl in my class who doesn't really talk, besides one word here and there (but somehow she still manages to be loud). We'll call her Blondie. Well, she's potty-training and she started to say "paah-eee... PAAH-EEEEE" which I have learned by now means she wants to put her training to practice. Well, the three-year-old class was using our adjoining bathroom at the moment, so her shrieks became louder and louder. After hurrying several playful three-year-olds through their pottying routine, I stood her at the doorway to the bathroom and yanked down her shorts and Pull-up. Now, usually I would check contents of said Pull-up before pulling it down, but I was just trying to get her to her target destination. Bad idea. Poop exploded all over the floor. And her leg. And pants.

But 4.2 seconds before this happened, a kid's mother walked in carrying him and happened to stand right next to where I was kneeling down. So she just stood there watching me while I had a heart attack over the Great Explosion.

So while I scrambled for paper towels and bleach, and stuck Blondie on the toilet, and tried to keep curious kids from entering the bathroom, and Artsy Mom stood right in my path, I heard shrieking from the other corner of the classroom. SHU-RIEK-ING. The smallest girl in my class had chosen this opportune moment to tormet the only three-year-old. Classic David and Goliath, except David is a teensy pink-dress-wearing ball of fire. For some reason, she was yelling "NO" to Three-Year-Old, which apparently made him so angry that he was howling, screaming, yelling, basically having conniptions and dying AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS in the other corner of my classroom. Which Peanut thought was so funny that she'd do it again (hey, I guess I'm trying to teach them about cause and effect and she's got it down pat).

Why do parents choose to walk in at these moments? And stand there helpless? Oh yeah, because they have one two-year-old. And I have seven.

I don't ever want septuplets, thanks.

Oh, and then we ate breakfast.

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