A letter to the school


Back in 2009, when the novelty of getting dressed for school hadn't worn off yet.

Dear Maiden’s Teacher,

Good morning! Actually, it hasn’t been a good morning. Which is why I’m writing this letter.

You might notice that the Maiden’s not looking as, say, spiffy as usual. This calls for an explanation.

First, as you were probably horrified to discover, the Maiden is only wearing a shirt and biker shorts. I am aware this contradicts the uniform requirements. She is aware this contradicts the uniform requirements.

But what you should be aware of is this: the Maiden is five years old. She has been dressing herself since she was 20 months old. Her uniform, including the conspicuously missing jumper, has been lovingly laid outside her door by her mother every single night since she started at your school in 2009. Her socks are in an accessible drawer. Her shoes are in the closet, where she put them when she came home yesterday afternoon. Like she’s been doing since 2009. Every morning there is a note on the table clearly instructing her to GET DRESSED BEFORE DOING ANYTHING ELSE.

We leave the house for school at 8:10. The Maiden rises at 6 a.m. Yet for some inscrutable law of the universe yet to be explicated by mathematicians, the Maiden cannot manage to, at some point during those two hours, use her three-and-a-half years of self-dressing experience to put on her jumper, socks, and shoes.

Today we attempted a scream-free, tear-free morning. That meant that I did not, contrary to custom, berate and nag the Maiden about Why on earth haven’t you got those socks on YET?!?!?! for half an hour before departing the house.

Hence the lack of jumper. Hence the lack of socks. Hence the lack of shoes.

You’re just lucky she managed to think about the biker shorts.

You’ll also notice that she will be skipping lunch today. Please feel free to assign her extra work during that period. She is more than welcome to eat when she gets home; her lunch box is waiting next to the door. You know, where she put it after I handed it to her at 8:09 this morning. After I filled it. At least she has her snack in her tote bag.

Ah yes, she does have her tote bag. Amazingly, it made it out the door, but only because I carried it. And that only because it contains, like, life-saving meds that she kind of needs to survive.

So what was the Maiden doing all this time, you might ask? Well, she kind of got dressed–at least she’s not just there in her underwear, right? She ate two spoons of cereal.

And she totally could not manage to keep holding onto her lunch box when she had to fill up her arms with 3 dolls and 12 novels in case she got bored on the 15-minute car ride. You know, after she spent the first 14 minutes finishing eating her breakfast. Which, by the way, was brought in the car by me.

In sum, I apologize. For the half-dressed appearance, lunchlessness, and, of course, the lateness, which sadly was inevitable when I wasn’t hounding her to get ready from 7:45 onward.

I think I’m with you in hoping that tomorrow will be different.

Sincerely,

The Maiden’s Mother

Advertisements

One response to “A letter to the school

  1. thetwistingkaleidoscope

    Although I hate to disappoint, I have to admit that this letter did not get sent–nor did the Maiden go to school half-dressed. AND I had to make an extra trip out to bring her her lunch box. But ohhhh, a mama can dream . . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s