On Tuesday I posted "Happy happy me!" on my Facebook page. I hate to follow that up with "I'm not getting back out of bed until July" so I guess I'll bitch and moan here instead. Bad got kicked out of nursery school. I'm miserable.
Here's the thing. The nursery school is wonderful. It's right across the street, and it's owned and run by a couple that are (were?) our friends. They had a baby at the end of August and we were thrilled for them. They'd hired a wonderful teacher to cover the maternity leave, but because they live above the school we knew they'd be around a lot, and it really put our minds at ease.
We're idiots that way.
Bad's first day was great. They were amazed at his colouring - hey, I'm his mom, he comes by his talent naturally! Ha! They were all, "He did GREAT! We have no worries about him." But then it started to go downhill. He started crying for me, and they had a hard time engaging him. The thing was, as soon as I picked him up he was cheerful, and he'd talk happily about school and his friends. When the Princess was having a hard time at her first daycare, that distress carried over into her behaviour and disposition in the evenings and weekends. With Bad there was none of that, I wasn't really worried about him, because when he was with me he was his usual happy self.
Then one day they called me to pick him up. At 10:00. After barely 45 minutes of school. We brainstormed ideas. (Well, I brainstormed ideas and typed them up into a very polite letter.) We switched him from full days to half days to help him transition. And then. Yesterday. I dropped Bad off in his class and as I was leaving, one of the couple, let's call him Dick, pulled me into the kitchen and said, and I quote, "This is it. If he doesn't snap out of this after Friday that's it. We can not tolerate him any more." Excuse me?
You can't tolerate my child? I'm not saying he's perfect - his nickname isn't Bad for no reason....he's stubborn and willful and wild, but he's also smart and funny and talented and affectionate and wonderful. And it's not like he was hitting or biting the other children - he was crying for his mommy. He's TWO.
So. I've been crying for 36 hours. I'm angry and sad and my feelings are hurt. I'm defensive and confused. And really? There's nothing I can do. I can't rant and rave at these people, they live right across the street and I have to pass their house twice a day taking the Princess to school. Unless I take a ridiculously long detour, I pass their house going to the grocery store, the coffee shop, and the post office. Plus - I like them. I get that they're tired and sleep-deprived with a newborn, and I'm sure I'd get sick of listening to someone's child cry all day too - but here's the thing. I don't run a NURSERY SCHOOL. I don't get paid to do that. They do.
And make no mistake. They are the ones that failed Bad - not the other way around. And they are the ones that will ultimately lose out. But in the meantime? This is crappy, and I kind of hope their baby is colicky and cries for the next 3 months straight.