I Thought You Were the Babysitter

It's time to register Annabella for kindergarten. So, all three kids and I are driving over there in the pouring rain with birth certificate, immunization record, and proof of address in hand.

Annabella has had some unexpected anxiety about kindergarten. Before this visit, I suggested a few times that we register. Her response was a resounding, "No!" I didn't push it. This time I am able to intice her because we've been invited to hear a local children's musician who plays at the school every Friday.

In the morning I am anxious about this too. Kindergarten, already? If older friends of mine are to be believed, in a second I'll turn around and she'll be in her high school cap and gown. But right now we are running late and I am losing my temper this way and that as I tried to herd my cats out the door and into the car.

Note to self: A person should not be harried if they're on their way to hear a fortyish bearded man sit in a tiny chair and sing "I've been working on the railroad."

I assume that there's some sort of parking protocol, so in an effort not to have anyone yell at me I park a block away. In my rush to get out of the house, I didn't put raincoats or rainboots on any of us, despite the torrential downpour. It is not until I have everyone unbuckled from their car seat and ready to face the elements that I realize that my umbrella won't open.

"Shhhhhhhi," I say. I almost always manage to stop myself before finishing the word. Almost.

So, we're holding hands, tromping along like soaked rats by the time we see the crossing guard, a fortyish woman, who is already picking up her orange cones. I smile at her, but she doesn't smile back.

Finally we find our way to the kindergarten classroom, walking past door after door with cheery signs that say things like, "It's cool to be peanut-free."

The children's musician works his magic on Annabella, just as I expected. And my own anxieties are eased by the warmth of the kindergarten classroom and the joy emanating from the students and teachers alike. We head to the office to register. As I'm filling out the forms the crossing guard comes into the office.

She looks at me and says kindly, "There's a parking lot in the front that you can use."

"Thanks," I say.

"I saw you before, but I didn't say anything because I thought you were the babysitter."

For a brief second I'm flattered. I look young and spry enough to be a babysitter!

Then she adds, "Well, because you have no raincoats or an umbrella or anything. I just thought. Well, you know. Sometimes the babysitters, they don't know any better."

Comments

[Yolanda]

Oh. Wow. Ouch.

[Brian Olesky]

I'm sure your parents taught you better than that.

Brian & Sharon

[Megan]

Which part? The part about smiling at strangers?

[attiton]

Good lord, I know how that feels.

[Pat Glennon]

An auspicious start. Oh, well. Who made her the arbiter of wise parenting?!

[Jen]

This coming from a woman who chooses to stand in the rain 3 hours per day!

[Doug]

Hey Megan ! Don't sweat this Kindergarten stuff. "Boy" started school in the fall and loves it. He has yet to come home with any trig homework, so I don't think the time/space continuum has started to warp here in PA. I'm certain Annabella will do just fine(mom, too).

[heather]

I think she is overestimating the authority that comes with the neon-vest and stop-sign : )

[Momo Fali]

You replied, "I mistook you for the crossing guard, but you're actually a busy-body, know-it-all who likes to lay guilt trips on soaking wet parents."