Sunday, December 12, 2010
24 hours in Glowie’s Life. Help me!
So I’m waiting to pick up my Blondie, my older daughter, at Middle School, when my phone rings.
“Oh Shit,” I say to the Mom I’m talking to, “that’s the elementary school. This is NEVER good!”
I’m waiting to hear: “Blah, blah, blah . . . Fell off the monkey bars again.” OR: “Blah, blah, blah . . . projectile vomiting.”
What I hear is the principal, identifying himself all formal-like saying: I have Glowie here in the office with me.
Uh. Okay. Is it a skinned knee or the next version of the swine flu? And why is the principal calling me?
Glowie is being “counseled” today about the choices she made on the playground. A little boy wouldn’t stop knocking down her sand castles. (Hey, my kids don’t get to the beach much. #never) So she stood up, all 34 pounds of her, and kicked the crap out of some kid who double outweighed her. Of course then the little boy turned around and shook her silly.
So they both got called in. Parents were called. Recesses were missed.
I apologized and thanked him. I also told him we would be discussing this at home and there would be some kind of consequence or follow up. Cuz that’s the right thing, right?
So I have a conversation with her about choices. What could she have done? Well, she asked him to stop and he did it again. She told the playground lady, who told him to stop, but then he went back and did it again.
“I just wanted him to stop Mommy.”
Yeah, I got it kid. And I want to be thin. Sometimes you gotta work with the circumstances you’ve got. Sometimes, my Little Glowie: You need to walk away.
So she has to write a letter to the principal and to the little boy, apologizing for making the choice that she did make.
In the privacy of my bedroom? There was a small victory dance being done. Cuz I LOVE a kid that solves problems and stands up for herself.
But of course, kicking is wrong. #stilldancing
Btw, the next morning? Glowie was receiving an award for being the Author of the Month. She wrote a five page essay about our family values. And she didn’t mention the word “martini” once.
Gold Star Baby! Gold Star.