Daycare Dress Code

Let's get caught up in the 3-1/2 year-old department.

My little beetle bug has been kinda bad lately. Bad is relative and not a word I like to use to describe my own flesh and blood, but ahem, he's been sorta rotten at school. It's daycare, but we call it school. Since we came back from Christmas break, things have been, well, 'rough' at old daycare. All of his teachers say the same thing: he is the sweetest little thing... but boy, is he stubborn.

I get daily reports in his tiny owl-print notebook that say stuff like this:

'Bug had an OK (usually written darker, as to emulate 'bold') day today. The morning was rough. We were not using gentle hands with our friends and we were ignoring our teachers. Our car was moved to Red for throwing a toy.'

It think that about sums it up. And when I arrive at daycare and get to the door of the closing room (it has one of those half-doors so you can look in and down on your little precious sweethearts, giving you a moment to decide if you want to let them out yet), I see his itty face staring up at me, usually fashioned in a silly smirk, frozen like a statue until he busts into a fit of giggles when I say... what on Earth is that face you're making? How was your day? I missed you so much! Let's help Miss Heather clean up and get your coat on.

Bug's daily reports in his tiny cartoon-character voice go something like this:

In the closing room doorway:
Me: 'How was your day?'
Bug: 'Dood!'
Me: 'Hmmm. Well, I read in your notebook that your car was on red today.'
Bug: 'Is dat wat miss sawah or miss mewanie said? Betuzz, my tar was on wed, but dat's otay, wight, mom, betuzz, well, I was ownwee a yittle bit bad (using his fingers to make a 'yittle' measurement), so I tan still have chocat milt and watch Mittee, wight?'
Me: 'Ummmm, well, I think that you... wait, what?'
Bug: 'Otay. I yov you, mom. I tan still pway Skywanders when we det home. You are da best mommy in da whole wuurrld. Yet me dive you a hud. I don't want my hat on, jus my hood. Otay, mom? Yet's go. Buyeeeee, miss hea-der.'
Me: (Sigh.) 'Let's talk about this more in the car.'

Car:
Me: 'Ok, bug, tell me why your car was on red.'
Bug: 'I don ra-membur (shrugs shoulders, raises teeny eyebrows and smirks). Do I have any dummies (gummies) in da car?'
Me: 'No, there are no gummies left in the ca, bug. Let's discuss your behavior at school today. We only use gentle hands with friends. If someone is not sharing, you walk away and play with something/someone else. And we always listen to our teachers, right?'
Bug: 'But... Otay...'
Me: 'What are we going to do tomorrow?'
Bug: '(Sigh) Mate betturrr deschizions...'

After several weeks of cars on red and some random great days in between (I have no idea how those suprisingly intersperse...) it culminated in this note last Tuesday: 'Bug had a rough morning and his car was moved to red for not following center rules*. (There was really an asterisk). At the bottom of the page, it read: *'Please see Mrs. Smith tomorrow when you drop bug off.'

Me: OH, sugar honey iced tea!!!!!

And, so I show up early to do the 'hold my hand-let me show you-I need another tiss-and a hud-wait-don't go to work-I want you to stay here' drop off dance. Then I'm able to sneak away into the director's office. Both the assistant and head director of the daycare center are present. I am nervous. (And if I spoke that it would be with a high-pitched voice for effect - NERRR-vous!).

They shut the door (never a good sign) and proceed to tell me both the most hysterical and comforting story I could have endured that morning. I was sweating, worrying if I'd have to switch centers and find a place to take him mid-year, where would that be? (Who wants an angel-faced, teacher-hugging, yet insubordinate toy-chucking, rough houser)? Would tuition be higher? But he'll miss his friends and teachers and I-am-getting-a-migraine! At last, they deliver the news:

Daycare Director's Office:
Director 1: 'Yesterday during circle time, around 9 a.m., when parents were droppiong off the half-day kids, we realized that Bug was sitting there without any pants on.'
Me: (GASP!) 'Oh. My. Goodness.'
Director 2: (chuckling)
Director 1: 'Yes, soooo, we were wondering if he ever does this at home? Because this was about the 4th time.'
Me: 'Oh, dear. Wow, yes, he likes to surprise us every few weeks and he'll just go streaking through the house. And just this weekend at his cousin's birthday party, actually. Heh-heh. Luckily, most everyone was gone by then.'
Director 2: (giggling)
Director 1: 'Ok, well, that makes us feel a lot better that it's not just here. And so, it's not a huge deal, but as he gets older, it will be, so if you could just talk to him and let him know that he needs to keep his clothes on.'
Me: 'Yes, yes. Of course, ummm, we will talk to him. That's important. Clothes. Yes.'
Director 2: 'Hee-hee.'
Me: 'Lately, he's been a little funny and freaky about socks being too tight on his toes, jeans being to scratchy or stiff...'
Director 2: 'That's what he said, maybe he's developing a sensory thing, where he doesn't like certain textures against his skin...? At least he had an answer. Most kids are like, 'I don't know...''
Director 1: 'All right, we appreciate you staying to talk about this. We know you are busy. Thanks very much.
Me: 'No problem, thank YOU. We will talk to him tonight and explain the importance of... clothes.'

Car:
To myself: Pwaaaah-heee-heee-haa-haa.... ooooh boy.
Hubbie: (on the phone) Is everything ok, what did they say?
Me: 'OMG... haaaa... you won't believe this one. Our... child... is... streaking... at... school! Yesterday, during story time... during parent drop off, they looked over and there he was, listening intently, with no pants on!'
Hubbie: 'Thank god. Gotta go. Love you, bye.'
To myself: 'Sigh... ahhh. Never. A. Dull. Moment. Priceless.'