Today was my day to prepare snacks for the 16 three and four-year-olds in my daughter’s class. I’m not sure I have anything interesting to note about the event, except that it made me ponder my own competitiveness. I am always a bit taken aback at myself when I feel a hot streak coming on, and this instance was particularly odd timing. Is my child’s classroom really the best setting for me to enact dog-eat-dog rivalries? Perhaps not. Luckily, given that I am acutely aware of my killer instinct, I nipped the feeling in the bud and will hopefully avoid partaking in any cutthroat playground behavior in the future.
But I admit when I scanned the list of snack ideas, the thought did cross my mind that I hoped whatever I brought would measure up by comparison. In the end, I chose a fairly simple but insanely delicious snack, graham crackers with cream cheese, with apple slices and raisins to keep it respectable. Let’s be real, people–who on this earth does not want to devour a gallon of cream cheese? If you have never had that snack, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re missing out.
In other school-related news, I have a buddy! Remembering the old Girl Scout tradition of making new friends, I sucked up my pride and timorousness on the first day of class and chit-chatted with the other moms (and even a few dads, hurray for them!). After all, if I’m going to cheer on my kid to meet her classmates, I suppose I should do the same. My bud is much more easy-going than me, which helps ease my inner antagonist. Did she remember to bring five wallet-size photos of her daughter, AND a family picture, AND a change of clothes, AND put them all in a gallon zip-lock bag with her daughter’s name on the first day? No she did not, and she didn’t apologize either. Are you listening? Did not make excuses, didn’t even flinch, just tossed her hair a bit, smiled and said “I’ll bring those things next time.” Oh, to be so cavalier! Reader, I am taking notes.
While #1 was in class this morning, I took #2 (hmmm, note to self: must think of another short-hand besides “number two”) to a new tumbling tots class for one and two-year-olds. Another chance to meet other moms, yea! I put on my game face and did it, and boy am I glad we did. She socialized like a champ, and so did I. It was fortunate for my tenuous nerves that I didn’t notice until after we left class that I had unwittingly stuck my daughter in a hand-me-down pink onesie with the words “Obama Girl” across the front. What ever must they have thought of me? “I’ll show those moms a thing or two. They need to know who I voted for when I enter the room.” Oh well, at least she’s adorable; for now I’ll have to hope that makes up for my inadvertent politicking. What would Judith Martin say?
Lastly in my morning out was a quick stop to Whole Foods. I had a Groupon to use up, so I entered the yuppy chain with unusual zeal. I must relay, dear readers, that something comes over me when I am shopping with a coupon. I get an extra little pep in my step, and I browse over the items on the menu or shelf with a gleeful glint. An appetizer? Sure! A $7 jar of pickles? Why not! When all was said and done, I left that store with $14 worth of pickles, a pint of brilliant heirloom tomatoes, some blue eggs, and a glass jar of milk. Couldn’t they have put it in a porcelain jar? And that is the note that I will end with to give you your cautionary tale of the day: beware of the superhero spending ability that often accompanies coupon shopping.
