Most weeks my favorite day of the week is Friday, the day I spend a couple of hours working in Patrick's classroom. I love these kids (in less than two hour doses especially). One of the best parts is watching all of the different personalities emerge. The thing about kindergartners is that they are equal parts inquisition and honesty. They happily interrogate you and offer candid and random information. "My dad is sick and won't get out of bed." "I have pink socks on." "My mommy yelled at me." "I have to go to the bathroom."
Patrick seems to have on-going input about my hair. Given his age, it is more observational truth as opposed to judgment.
- A month ago he was attempting to color a picture of me. When he got to my hair color he was stumped. "It's black, no brown, no light brown, no yellow. I think I'll make it half and half." Which given the state of my roots was incredibly accurate.
- Two weeks ago, David (my hair boyfriend) decided that loving Jay-Z wasn't enough, I needed to look like Beyonce. And the 2.5 inches of roots were the first thing that needed to convert. Can you tell what color my hair is now?
That's me on the left, David doesn't have me That Blond yet.
Anyway, when I got home Patrick says, "Whoa! Your hair. That isn't your hair. You don't look like our mommy but I know you are still our mommy."
In other news, Keith learned the ins and outs of the white lie. You may not want to clean up your toys but when you lie about cleaning up your toys your friends (Baa Baa and Bunny Bear) will be jailed for the evening and you will be very sad and lonely.
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