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The great thing about kindergarten is that they teach your kids to read and write. We’re in this strange reading limbo, where now they realize that this crazy symbols they’ve been seeing everywhere actually mean something, and I can no longer tell them that the sign says “DON’T TOUCH! NOT FOR KIDS!” when in reality it screams “FREE CANDY!”
We worked all year on writing and sounding out words. I relaxed my type A neuroticism on spelling and allowed them to spell phonetically, which is entertaining and anxiety inducing. Ninja becomes “nenga.” Apple becomes “apul.” But wuns yu get the hang uf it, it’s kindu freeng, yu no?
And then they started making signs.
This parenting milestone kind of snuck up on me. I remember making these types of notices and sticking them on my door. But somehow they left this out of What to Expect When You’re Raising 3 Kids Less Than 2 Years Apart. Because the signs are not exactly of the “welcome” variety.
The sign that started it all. I’m impressed by her fortitude to tell us she needs some alone time, perplexed by the “be positive” stationary, and cracking up at the spelling.
Because I asked that they NOT paint their faces in the fashion of Native Americans with Hello Kitty nail polish.
Because her sisters kept getting ahead of her while riding scooters around the block. Totally my fault.
“Do not cum in Claire you ar ating like a sad (?) baby.” I’d just be a bad parent if I didn’t keep this for posterity, right?
This one’s probably my favorite. “You do not at like a mom. Love, Rachel.” Because I wouldn’t let her watch Netflix 5 minutes after walking in the door from a 2 hour movie at the theater. I don’t know if it’s the “Love, Rachel,” or the white picket fence, but she doesn’t seem too strong in her convictions here.
But more often than not, I find piles and piles of drawings of little girls (them) and an enormous figure (me, obvs), adorned with “I love you, Mommy,” and “You are so nis and prete.” Each one makes my day and gives me hope that I may actually be doing something right around here.
Let’s just pretend that someone didn’t go back and scribble out “I love Momey” when I wouldn’t let them spray the cat with OFF.