Last week, J's Kindergarten class had their Easter Parade. If you've been around a while, you'll remember that two years ago I wrote about PG's Kindergarten Easter Parade in this post here. I wrote about how her teachers had sent home a plain white paper plate with the instructions to "take this plate and turn it into the most beautiful Easter bonnet you can imagine!" and how this had completely stressed me out because I knew I couldn't contend on the same level of craftiness as the other parents (something that no longer bothers me because looking back I can tell that some people just needed to illchay on the ompetitioncay, k-o-kay?)
I also whined a little about it being unfair that the boys had only to color a tie.
Well.
Easter 2012 was going to be my time to shine, because a) I have a son, b)he's in Kindergarten, which should've meant that c) when the Easter Tie came home all I would have to do is plop down the box of crayons and let the boy go to town and be done with it.
But no. The craft gods laughed in my face once again because this year when the tie came home, I saw to my horror that they had changed the directions. The new directions said "Boys! Take this tie and turn into a tie like no other! Cover it with fabric, glue, glitter.... be as creative as you can be! Just make sure it's one of a kind and unique!"
Well crap on that, K teachers! Crap. On. That.
So I sat down with J. We talked. We discussed. We diagrammed. He decided that he wanted to color the top portion of the tie and, at the bottom, depict an Easter Bunny hatching out of a colorful Easter Egg. (I assure you, he came up with it on his own. I merely nodded and took notes.)
Then Mr. C came home and it was time for me to leave for tutoring. I asked Mr. C if he wanted to continue the project with J, or leave it for me to finish with him in the a.m. He said he would finish it out. So I explained our idea. I showed him the diagram. I explained the materials needed. Then I came home and found this:
No, Mr. C. Just no.
First of all, where's the colorful construction paper Easter Eggs we were going to design? And how are we supposed to tell if that's two broken halves of an egg or a couple of tulips sitting there? And... what? Is the Easter bunny sitting in a nest of black pubic hair? What about black yarn says 'nest' to you? Where's the cotton ball that we were going to glue onto the bunny's backside? Come on! These are Kindergartners here. They have no filters. They will judge, and they will mock. Oh yes, they will mock.
Just a side note for those of you who think I'm exaggerating the whole Kindy judging thing: at the beginning of the year I went into J's classroom to be a mommy helper. I chose a table to sit and help at when this little girl says to me "Excuse me?" and I said "Yes, sweetheart?" and she said "I don't want you. I want that mommy to help me." And then she points across the room to a younger, much prettier mommy helper who had obviously just come from the gym based on the fact that she was wearing super tight yoga pants and showing off her fabulously flat abs. So I laughed it off, and was all "Oh, well. What are you going to do?" But you know what? Every week I go in to help now, I spend at least 15 extra minutes on my hair and makeup. All because of that little twerp. Of course, the whole time I'm blow drying, I'm always thinking about that little girl and how I wish she'd choke on a fruit roll up or at least have hairy toes as an adult, but still. Kindergartners deal low blows, man. They know how to get what they want.
Anyway, back to my story.
Mr. C defended the tie by making the valid point that it was 100% J's work, which I did not have an argument for other than the fact that I knew how to make it J's work and make it more fabulous too. So we dropped it and when he left for work the next morning, I undid the tie so that J and I could start fresh. This is what we came up with:
You're probably thinking that it doesn't look like much, and you'd be mostly right. We did however, just dress it up a little. We put some Easter grass on the bottom to make the nest. We created a decorative egg out of construction paper. J painted his Easter Bunny yellow with black spots, which really made it look like an Easter Cheetah, but whatever. It's his work right? I held my tongue.
We get to the Easter Parade. J has his fancy tie on. The girls, just as they did 2 years ago, are all trying to magnificently outdo each other in their fancy hats. And the boys? Most of them have simply colored their tie.
No glue.
No glitter.
No fabric.
No fuss.
I can't win. Not only that, but I realized had come right back around to re-learn the lesson I had thought I learned with PG. That comment I made earlier about not caring for the competition factor? Big steamily pile of doo, that statement apparently was. For PG, it was about the fun of making the bonnet and being in the parade. For J, it was about the fun of making the tie and being in the parade. For me, it was about worrying that my children would suffer public humiliation because of their mother's limited artistic vision and ability. The kids were right. It's about the fun, and once again this mama was a big, giant, fun sucker.
Let's hope by the time Roo hits Kinder, the lesson will stick. Third time's a charm.
Happy Easter, everyone! Am I the only one who thinks that whoever came up with the idea of celebrating Jesus' sacrifice with chocolate bunnies and Peeps was a genius? Seriously. Thank you, Jesus. And thank you Easter Bunny.
Bawk, Bawk!
I also whined a little about it being unfair that the boys had only to color a tie.
Well.
Easter 2012 was going to be my time to shine, because a) I have a son, b)he's in Kindergarten, which should've meant that c) when the Easter Tie came home all I would have to do is plop down the box of crayons and let the boy go to town and be done with it.
But no. The craft gods laughed in my face once again because this year when the tie came home, I saw to my horror that they had changed the directions. The new directions said "Boys! Take this tie and turn into a tie like no other! Cover it with fabric, glue, glitter.... be as creative as you can be! Just make sure it's one of a kind and unique!"
Well crap on that, K teachers! Crap. On. That.
So I sat down with J. We talked. We discussed. We diagrammed. He decided that he wanted to color the top portion of the tie and, at the bottom, depict an Easter Bunny hatching out of a colorful Easter Egg. (I assure you, he came up with it on his own. I merely nodded and took notes.)
Then Mr. C came home and it was time for me to leave for tutoring. I asked Mr. C if he wanted to continue the project with J, or leave it for me to finish with him in the a.m. He said he would finish it out. So I explained our idea. I showed him the diagram. I explained the materials needed. Then I came home and found this:
No, Mr. C. Just no.
First of all, where's the colorful construction paper Easter Eggs we were going to design? And how are we supposed to tell if that's two broken halves of an egg or a couple of tulips sitting there? And... what? Is the Easter bunny sitting in a nest of black pubic hair? What about black yarn says 'nest' to you? Where's the cotton ball that we were going to glue onto the bunny's backside? Come on! These are Kindergartners here. They have no filters. They will judge, and they will mock. Oh yes, they will mock.
Just a side note for those of you who think I'm exaggerating the whole Kindy judging thing: at the beginning of the year I went into J's classroom to be a mommy helper. I chose a table to sit and help at when this little girl says to me "Excuse me?" and I said "Yes, sweetheart?" and she said "I don't want you. I want that mommy to help me." And then she points across the room to a younger, much prettier mommy helper who had obviously just come from the gym based on the fact that she was wearing super tight yoga pants and showing off her fabulously flat abs. So I laughed it off, and was all "Oh, well. What are you going to do?" But you know what? Every week I go in to help now, I spend at least 15 extra minutes on my hair and makeup. All because of that little twerp. Of course, the whole time I'm blow drying, I'm always thinking about that little girl and how I wish she'd choke on a fruit roll up or at least have hairy toes as an adult, but still. Kindergartners deal low blows, man. They know how to get what they want.
Anyway, back to my story.
Mr. C defended the tie by making the valid point that it was 100% J's work, which I did not have an argument for other than the fact that I knew how to make it J's work and make it more fabulous too. So we dropped it and when he left for work the next morning, I undid the tie so that J and I could start fresh. This is what we came up with:
We get to the Easter Parade. J has his fancy tie on. The girls, just as they did 2 years ago, are all trying to magnificently outdo each other in their fancy hats. And the boys? Most of them have simply colored their tie.
No glue.
No glitter.
No fabric.
No fuss.
I can't win. Not only that, but I realized had come right back around to re-learn the lesson I had thought I learned with PG. That comment I made earlier about not caring for the competition factor? Big steamily pile of doo, that statement apparently was. For PG, it was about the fun of making the bonnet and being in the parade. For J, it was about the fun of making the tie and being in the parade. For me, it was about worrying that my children would suffer public humiliation because of their mother's limited artistic vision and ability. The kids were right. It's about the fun, and once again this mama was a big, giant, fun sucker.
Let's hope by the time Roo hits Kinder, the lesson will stick. Third time's a charm.
Happy Easter, everyone! Am I the only one who thinks that whoever came up with the idea of celebrating Jesus' sacrifice with chocolate bunnies and Peeps was a genius? Seriously. Thank you, Jesus. And thank you Easter Bunny.
Bawk, Bawk!
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