Picking Flowers (and weeds)

I bet my children’s parents never have to worry about weeds in their yard. Because these kids…. they pluck every beautiful flower (or weed) they see. Instead of playing they’re busy picking flowers for their mommies and daddies ❀❀, wiping their pollen-stained hands on their clothes, their hair whipping in the wind, their eyes shying away from the sun. I do not know what their parents think of when they open up flower-filled backpacks, see mud-caked clothes, or pollen stained on dresses, but I hope they realize the love their children have for them when they say, “Look mommy/daddy. I got you a flower!”

While walking in line…

Walking in line is a hard thing to do for my kids and its understandable. We have a long way to go before we reach the cafeteria. The dynamics of my classroom makes it an interesting class. There are kids who fight in line, kids who decide it’s time to sit down for a conversation, kids who turn like pinwheels while walking (and cry when they fall down πŸ˜†πŸ˜‚)

The kids are walking in line as we head back to classroom from the cafeteria. One kid isn’t looking forward as she walks and as a result trips and falls into another kid who in turn loses balance and falls on one knee. I braced myself for the “Ms. SahhhRRAAA….. She puuushed meeeee!”

Instead I heard this:

R: OUCH! (Looked at the kid behind her and then at me. She got up and turned around and said, ” Are you ok-ke?”

They lock eyes, bring both their hands to their mouth, and giggle. So cute.

😊😍😌

Inquiries of a 4-year-old

T: Miss Saraaa. You look different.

Me: I look different? How do I look different?

T looks me over quizzically, not sure exactly how I look different. I know what it is that she noticed so I show my body from the side so that she can see my hair.

T (noticing my hair): You have a ponytail!
Smiling, I say, “Yes, I do have a ponytail today.”

Then T looks at me quizzically again. With her eyebrows raised, she asks, “How did your hair get so long?”

Me: How did it get long? It was always this long. You just always see me with a bun. [I show her how my hair gets shorter when I do a bun.] See? …. [I let down my hair again in a ponytail.] How do I look?

T: …….You look different.

πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ Oh T.