just before, just after
This is the mood around our house at the moment. Ninety-five percent of the time. Bubbly, energized, skipping and twirling and leaping around the furniture, down the sidewalk, through the school door. Talking loudly and boisterously about the word of the day, her yoga moves, the class pet, the writing workshop.* Gab, gab, gab, gab, gab…and then the inevitable, gut wrenching, set-your-clock-by-it 7:00 crash into a sobbing, puffy eyed, runny nosed, deflated pile of exhausted, woefully wailing, five-year-old mush. Three books, two hugs and one blankie later she’s out. I’m interested to see how long it will take before she sees 8 p.m. once again.
*word of the day: “um, we have this word of the day, and every day it changes and we learn it and what it means and how we can use it, and it’s very cool, except that…well…for some reason I can’t exactly remember what the word is…but how about I tell you what it means… and you just keep guessing at the word until you get it?” (I guessed for the duration of our split cupcake at the bakery we pass on the way home, but didn’t hit it – I’ll have to check on that tomorrow.)
her yoga moves: they begin each day with fifteen minutes of yoga “to warm up our bodies and minds so that we’re ready to take in the day” and now, with little warning, she falls to the ground in some corkscrew or lies bending and coiling until she achieves her goal and pronounces simply “the acorn!”, “bow and arrow!” “rocking horse!”
the class pet: next week they get to meet their class pet, a lizard – with a name, but, like the word of the day, it has somehow slipped out of her mind. The best part of the class pet is that every Friday a new student in the room will get to take home a special poster to complete with facts and images about themselves and the class pet! Both the poster and Mr. Lizard will return on Monday to the eager young faces waiting to hear a little more about the kid of the week, but most importantly, what she and her reptile step-brother did over the weekend. God help the family who returns the mascot in a sealed cardboard box on Monday. I had visions of searching the Petsmart aisles at closing time on Sunday night trying to find just the right shade of olive green – just as she was breathlessly telling me how they were going to get to feed it, and to hold it. I asked her point blank “Are you going to hold it?” And she stopped skipping, turned to face me squarely on the sidewalk, and said firmly “Well…that depends on what the thing looks like.”
and lastly, the writing workshop: “This should be really fun because I just have so many stories in my head right now.” Tell ’em sister, tell ’em. I love to hear them, love this telling of your day. Just make sure you wrap it up before seven p.m.