Some people hate Mondays. Not me. Around here, it's Tuesdays.
Here's the backstory: the owner of the place where Urban Kid 1 takes art class has a son who started 1/2-day Kindergarten this year. Her son and U-Kid 1 know each other and have had a playdate or two. And his 1/2-day of Kindergarted is in the afternoons.
Art Mom had a neat idea -- open an art class and offer it to the other families in her son's class. The class is one hour and 20 minutes long -- a one-hour art class, then 20 minutes of eating together out of their lunchboxes before being picked up and shuttled over to school.
Art Mom kindly invited Urban Kid 1 to join the class. U-Kid 1 LOVES this class. She loves art, she loves carrying her Hello Kitty lunchbox, loves getting the best end of belonging to a class of kids. (i take advantage of the time to do a grocery run with only one urban kid)
She's also a raging beeyotch on Tuesday mornings.
Why? I do not get it. I try to do just a little school because after I pick her up, I can't get her back to school mode. Oh, who am I kidding -- I can't get me back to school mode.
I tried pretending to "drop" her out of the class as punishment for a week. Art Mom was right there with me on the "gotta fix this now because it's only harder to fix later" idea and worked with me (all the while saying that U-Kid 1 behaved like the perfect angel while in class). Trouble is, the day that I was supposed to make my big show of her not getting to be in art class anymore was also the day that she was pretty much passed out on the living room floor recovering from the stomach flu. She was weak and puny and miserable and pitiful -- and clearly would not have been in art class either way.
So we've blown that strategy.
Today, I'm trying something new to treat her Tuesday Morning Drama Queen Snot-itis. She gets to go to art class -- we've paid for it through the end of the year, I'll be damned if I'm going to figure out any more make-ups for the class. But she does not get to stay for the 20 minutes of lunch. I'm not packing the Hello Kitty lunchbox. I'm picking her up after exactly one hour. She can put on her coat and go out to the car while her buddies sip on juiceboxes and munch on sandwiches.
I know that this is hard to believe after all of this, but she really is a sweet kid. But for some reason, on Tuesday mornings, some alien being comes to visit. Some whiny, disrespectful, dramatic little alien.
Thanks for listening. Typing it out on the blog is much less painful that bashing my forehead into the wall over and over.