I was the room helper in Heath's class today. Or den mother, as Mark likes to call it. Everytime he says that, I imagine the class as a group of little bear cubs. Or a bunch of little old men in Shriners Club Grand Pooba hats, like Richie Cunninghams's dad, Howard.
It was probably a good thing that I was there today. Heath is definitely working his way back to feeling better, so he was a bit anxious and tired and out of the routine after missing school last week.
Just before 10am they said that there was going to be a fire drill. In an attempt to beat the mad rush and be ready to go outside at the sound of the alarm, the teachers decided to get everyone suited up in their jackets, hats and gloves.
So there they all are. Puffy jackets, woolly hats and mittens, ready to go, and nothing. Now we're waiting. Have you ever seen a group of three year olds wait patiently for something? Right. People are rolling around on the floor. Where's the fire drill? Some are complaining that they're hot. I don't want this jacket on. Others are throwing toys on the floor (okay, that one was mine). Finally, the teachers decided to go ahead out to the playground. Fire drill, or no fire drill.
Last week when we weren't there, a playground switch was made. Now they are on the big playground with the climbing rope, castle (or pirate ship, depending on your take), and the tire swing.
The tire swing seemed like a good place to be. It was in the sun, and pushing it back and forth got the heat going for me. Most everyone wanted a turn. Or multiple turns.
Some wanted to swing fast. Some wanted to swing slow. Some wanted to swing fast, when in fact, they really wanted to swing slow. Some wanted to swing slow to begin, then would insist that it swing faster, then no, no, no, swing it slower.
There were various confessions made on the swing.
Remember when I lost my shoe on it last week?
I fell off the other day.
Don't spin it too fast, I got sick last time. (I checked in with this one with great frequency. You're still okay? I saw the others eyeing the kid with caution, too.)
A few of them would get on, take their turn, then topple over onto the ground when they got off. And there were a couple that took turn, after turn, after turn. And everytime they got on, they would giggle with the same delight as the time before.
Everyone wanted to share the tire swing; three could fit on at one time. And each time they wanted someone to swing them. Except one. One leg over the tire, while spinning wildly, round and round with the other foot, she would swing. The others stepped back, careful to not get a tire pop in the mouth.
Pink-cheeked, dizzied, and out of breath, she would stop, push her hair out of her eyes, and giggle, That feels so good.
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