Last week Monkey’s preschool held a Thanksgiving program. Because I am “That Mom” I was there with camera, video camera, Hubby, Mimi, and Grandma in tow.
Let me start by saying he was a phenomenal Native American (umm we don’t say Indian anymore, get with it). Every kid wore their handmade Native American and Pilgrim costumes while they sang their festive songs; however, Monkey’s butcher paper get-up was sliding down his body mid tune and his teacher was wearing his construction paper headdress. None the less, he was the proudest monkey and I was grinning like a fool that was in awe of her boy.
When we were leaving the school, I noticed this lovely display.
Even though the teacher went to the trouble of putting the kids’ names on their paintings, I could have spotted my kid’s a mile away.
Yup, there it is.
To be fair this could have went another way: drowned in so much paint that the paper would have disintegrated. I would have known that was his handy work too
Even as his mother, I had to wonder “Really, Miss Preschool teacher? There weren’t any other kids’ pictures you could have put up?”
I had to wonder what had Monkey so distracted. Were you looking to explain yourself through a different medium? Were you bothered by the tools they gave you? Was it too close to snack time?
Is this going to be displayed on my fridge, you betcha.
Aspiring painter, meh.
Adorable butcher paper Indian Native American, hell yeah!