Today was our day to bring snack. Each day, a different child is selected to be the bearer of the snack...the child marches in and announces with the voice of King Richard the III (or Elizabeth the I), "I, Moustache Man (or Princess Carpathia), bear the gifts of Food and Drink; ye all shall be impressed with my Mother's Good Sense and Godly choice of Snack. May you marvel in her Betty Crockerdom and wish you, too, had the Greatest Mother on Earth!"
...and they give you like a month's notice and all....and then I worried for an entire month...what snack should we take? Bottle of juice or juice boxes? Juice baggies? Donuts for the week of the letter D? Healthy? Junk food? My son wouldn't eat it unless it came in the form of a nugget or hot dog, so it didn't much matter to him. If I picked the WRONG snack, will he become a drug addict? Need therapy? Write a book called "My Mommy Messed up Snack Day and Other Twice Told Tales"?
What happens when he finds out that I actually forgot snack day was today after worrying about it non-stop for the past moon...only remembering at the very last possible second and grabbing a new pack of Double Stuffed Oreos and Welch's grape juice...and yesterday I forgot Sharpie Boy's picture day (and he was wearing a HORRIBLE shirt...ugh)....and I took him to school today wearing two different colored socks?
And, then, while driving the Mama van, I realized that World Peace is a problem and not snack day, but, still and all, I am a perfectionist. I can only hope they write something like this on my grave stone:
Here lies our Mama
She loved cats and llamas
She sometimes forgot snack day
but then let us build with clay
our lives so they would be full of wonda
Well, they are 5 and can't spell yet, and it was better than using the word DRAMA!