Monkey See, Monkey Do

Mommy's helper. 

Let's get the gunk out! 

Putting on the top. She LOVED fitting it just right. 

I accidentally bought a carving kit for jumbo-sized pumpkins, and a jumbo pumpkin this is not. I had to wing it, and this was the best I could do. 

 Cute little monkey!

Of course there's snow in the background of our Halloween photo. Is that not normal? 

Playing with her pumpkin.

At the school party. The juice boxes (provided by moi, I'll have you know) were a huge hit. Charlotte doesn't typically get to drink juice.

Snack time. At which point, I realized we needed to get her out of her costume STAT.

My PATHETIC video of the parade. I was holding Charlotte's hand, walking in heels, and trying to keep steel doors from smacking into my child. So, this is pretty much the worst Halloween Parade Video you'll ever see. You're welcome.

We had a BUSY Halloween! The photos pretty much show it all. Yesterday, I escaped from work early to attend Charlotte’s school party. It’s a good thing I did, because the second I got there, Charlotte grabbed onto my hand AND DID NOT LET GO. Until, of course, snack time. (She didn’t nap very well yesterday.)

The hand-holding caused a bit of a problem when the kids gathered for a class photo. We temporarily parted, and my daughter screamed and burst into tears. Fortunately, another little boy also refused to get in the picture, so Charlotte wasn’t the only one.

We did the parade, and Charlotte had her thumb stuck in her mouth the entire time. We then did party snacks, and I had a charming conversation with another mother, which I stupidly let ruin the party for me.

“[Child] is such a good eater and SO MUCH BIGGER than the other kids his age. He’s in the 90^th percentile for height and 75^th for weight, and he towers over the kids,” That Mother said, with (in my opinion) excessive pride. I mean, really. A kid grows how he or she grows. “And he’s the youngest kid in the class!”

Charlotte’s teacher smiled and shook her head. “No, Charlotte H. is our littlest one now.”

That Mom raised her eyebrows. “When is her birthday?” she asked me.

“End of January,” I said.

That Mom shook her head. “[Child] is younger. He just turned two in September.”

“No,” I said very carefully. “Charlotte hasn’t turned two yet. She’ll be two on January 30^th.”

That Mom gaped. “She’s not even TWO yet?”

“No,” I said.

“I am shocked,” she said. "Absolutely shocked. The staff cited all sorts of rules and policies, saying [Child] could absolutely not move into this class until he was two. I mean, in the other class, it was just ridiculous. He was a giant amongst all these . . .  all these . . . .  all these BABIES.”

At the word “baby,” Charlotte’s head snapped up. (Babies are her favorite thing in the world.) And at the word “babies,” which dripped with disdain, I could easily read between the lines. BABIES. Like, MY child. Who apparently was holding back her precious son's intellectual development.

So, I shrugged. “Policies were never mentioned to us. They asked if we’d be open to moving her up a little early, and we decided to give it a try. I really don’t think it was anything beyond a slot opening up,” I said, trying to clarify that we’re not so deluded that we think Charlotte is just SO ahead of her peers that she simply must be challenged more.

“Well, I just can’t believe it,” That Mom said. “Apparently the rules don’t apply to everybody.”

I shrugged again. “I honestly don’t know. We were surprised, yes. But Charlotte does well when she has big kids to imitate.”

That Mom glared at me, clearly disenchanted with the notion of her child inspiring mine.  We started cleaning up and I took the opportunity to bolt to the paper towel dispenser and thus end the conversation. When I got back, That Mom had changed topics, telling everyone how [Child] ate so much more than other kids—because he’s just the Best Eater Ever. I kept my observation to myself that Charlotte had packed away about twice as much as that other kid.

We were one of the last to leave, as Charlotte took forever to finish eating. As I gathered up her stuff, I looked around her room and examined the birthday chart. Two January birthdays were listed. Charlotte, January 30, 2010. And another little girl, January 16, 2009. She’s in a class with a child an entire year older. Charlotte is the only 2010 kid.

I looked over at my sweet Charlotte, who had applesauce covering the front of her shirt. Of course she did. No bibs in this class. But she still needs a bib. Heck, she needs help getting hoisted onto the little chairs at the tables, at least until she grows another 2 inches or so. About two-thirds of her classmates are potty-trained, but potty-training isn’t even on the horizon for our girl. Earlier, I had counted plastic plates with a little boy to distract him from the “But where’s MY mommy?” until she came, and in doing so, I thought about how Charlotte can’t count yet. (We count EVERYTHING, but it simply hasn’t clicked.) In short, I seriously second-guessed our decision to move her up to the next class. I really hadn't realized what a big deal it was to dodge the two-year rule and Charlotte's clinginess in class was not helping my thought process.

Anyway, I felt very much in a funk the entire drive home and the rest of the night. Chris assured me that Charlotte is probably indeed a little overwhelmed with all the newness, but yesterday was also her very first official day in the new class, and there was a parade and Halloween party to added to it. Perspective, he reminded me. She loves the routine, the big-kid playground, and the do-it-yourself aspect of her new class. Getting covered in applesauce is hardly tragic. Right?

Anyway, Halloween continued. We had lots of trick-or-treaters, and I’m convinced our neighborhood has the cutest kids ever. Freaking adorable. There was even a Steelers football player, which Chris found hilarious. I gave the Steeler candy anyway, then yelled “Go Seahawks!” as he bolted across our lawn.

Now, it’s November. Time to start listening to Christmas music!