Experience

The following paragraphs will recount two exciting experiences from last Thursday, May 5.  Enjoy.  (I’m enjoying them, now that they’re over).

Experience 1: Delivery of Squirrel by Dynamic Canine Duo

We often babysit Rachel and Jim’s Shepherd/Lab mix Dakota, and Mom and Rich’s West Highland Terrier, Piper.  This brings our dogs-in-house total to three.  Piper, age twelve, usually goes directly into Ellen’s room to lounge on her princess pillow.  But Dakota and Addie (ages 2 and 5, respectively) engage in lap-running and rodent-hunting in the backyard.  The lap-running does a great job of getting their wiggles and wags out, and the rodent-hunting is fun, but for the most part fruitless.  (Addie’s gotten a few rabbits and a squirrel or two, but the kills are few, far-between, and usually attended by Dave, who can remove any by-products swiftly).  On the afternoon of May 5, I noticed some blood on Addie’s chest, which was dripping from a cut on her ear.  This mysterious laceration, coupled with Dakota’s extreme interest in staying outside, raised my suspicions to the point of venturing into the backyard to search for evidence of a killing.  I didn’t have to go far.  The dead squirrel, licked to a glossy sheen, had been deposited right at the back door for my appreciation. 

Experience 2: Molestation by Preschooler while Serving as Room Parent

Thursday is “drop-off day” in Ellen’s preschool class, but since the teachers can always use an extra set of limbs, moms and dads can, instead of drop off their kid and leave, stay and volunteer as “room parent.”  That was my role on Thursday, and it was a good one.  Ellen was excited to have me stay, and understood and graciously accepted that I had to pay attention to the other kids too.  We all had a nice time making bookmarks for the Mommies for Mother’s Day, and playing on slides and giant swings during Gym Time.  But Circle Time brought a new kind of adventure.  There is a particular song that we sing about the process of the blooming of flora – seeds are planted, rain comes down, sun comes out, flowers grow.  Of course there are actions which accompany this catching ditty (sung to the familiar tune of “Pop Goes the Weasel”), and they involve the children lying on the floor and being “planted” as seeds – the Mommies and Daddies push them into the ground, provide the necessary Pretend Rain and Pretend Sun, and then the kids pop up.  After performing this one once (my thumb was green, and I successfully sprouted four kids), Teacher Janelle called for a repeat performance, and the suggestion arose that Miss Cyndy should be planted in the ground.  Now, this is a pretty good deal – a little stretch of the imagination, and the planting is like a mini-massage, since the kids’ technique for planting usually involves some sort of pounding or pressing on the back and legs.  I happily arranged myself face-down on the floor, in a sort of dead-man’s float.  We launched into singing, and three or four girls and boys began their planting of me.  Pounds and presses on my back were regular and delightful.  But one little boy had a unique gardening MO.  His technique involved pounding and pressing, to be sure, but of a quite different variety, and certainly in a quite different body locale.  My shock was extreme.  I shot up, and the only thing that could come out of my mouth was “no, that’s NOT nice touching!”  I was pretty much done after that, so unfortunately the other little gardeners had to deal with the disappointment of planting a seed which sprouted too early.  (Ahem).