Dan craps every day around 4:00pm.
At 3:50pm, I sat him on the toilet. I told him I was going to wait there until he pooped. He kept crying the word "Noooo" like Anakin when he found out Padme died giving birth (CAUTION SPOILERS LOL).
He cried so hard he made a grimace that looked like the Tragedy mask. I could only see two teeth on the bottom because his lip was so curved around his jaw in a huge gaping expression of horror that his ass was on the toilet instead of snug in a pull-up I knew he was inevitably going to shit.
We stayed in the bathroom for 20 minutes. Tristan laid on the floor, tiled with tiny yellow and white tiles, and pointed to all the white ones saying "White, white, white, white, white" every time he pointed to a new white one. Very serious business!
Twenty minutes later and Dan's bowels were going strong. He said he didn't have to poop. So we went outside to play.
He started squatting.
I rushed him back inside and stuck him on the toilet yet again for another 7 minutes. No poop.
WTF.
Didn't matter. I was off at 4:30. I left his inevitable payload for another poor soul to wipe up.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
The new face of Room 4.
Since we've graduated up most of the kids I started with, I'll give a little "Where are they now?" and a recap of who I do have at the moment.
Bailey, Kathryn, JoAnn, Molly, Danielle, and Laurel have all moved up and are in the preschool class.
Gloria is leaving day care because she cries when she has to come so her dad is going to stay home so she doesn't have to go to school. Tell me that's not a fucked up relationship. Why, exactly, is your three-year-old ruling your entire world? Put her in fucking day care and tell her to man up and get over it, she's only there two days a week.
Diego moved up to our room from the toddler class. He thinks he should get whatever he wants because he's cute, but he's been listening and actually being good so I shall withhold judgment
Christina will be moved up at the end of the month to preschool. She turns 3 in a couple weeks and honestly needs to be more challenged.
So that gives us... Dan, Corey, Tristan, Diego, Will (who was back today after a 3 day suspension), Billie (who will likely move up as soon as she's old enough, barring any weird circumstances), and Christina (for now). Seven. I don't think I'm missing anyone. Wow. Seven.
I NEED MORE GIRLS!
Bailey, Kathryn, JoAnn, Molly, Danielle, and Laurel have all moved up and are in the preschool class.
Gloria is leaving day care because she cries when she has to come so her dad is going to stay home so she doesn't have to go to school. Tell me that's not a fucked up relationship. Why, exactly, is your three-year-old ruling your entire world? Put her in fucking day care and tell her to man up and get over it, she's only there two days a week.
Diego moved up to our room from the toddler class. He thinks he should get whatever he wants because he's cute, but he's been listening and actually being good so I shall withhold judgment
Christina will be moved up at the end of the month to preschool. She turns 3 in a couple weeks and honestly needs to be more challenged.
So that gives us... Dan, Corey, Tristan, Diego, Will (who was back today after a 3 day suspension), Billie (who will likely move up as soon as she's old enough, barring any weird circumstances), and Christina (for now). Seven. I don't think I'm missing anyone. Wow. Seven.
I NEED MORE GIRLS!
Dan. Dan. Dan! DAN!!!
Children are obsessed with sticking their fingers places where they don't belong. Daniel can't go five minutes without me catching him with his fingers up his nose or in his mouth. He does the two-finger-nose-to-mouth combo: index and middle fingers up the nose, catch the snot, over the philtrum, and into the mouth.
I do not know how many times I said "Get your fingers out of your mouth" today. It was SLOBBER fest! Every time I caught him, I made him wash his hands. Then, I took his little poofy cheeks in my hand and told him to look at my eyes. He would. Then as soon as I said, "Don't," his eyes would look away. Ugh.
I managed to get out "Don't put your hands in your mouth" after restarting about 8 times. He wouldn't look at me. Then I made him say it back. Hands washed, he returned to playing. For five minutes. Because his hands were in his mouth again.
Another thing Dan does repeatedly after being told to stop, besides EVERYTHING, is playing with cars on the table. "Dan, where do the cars go?" "The floor." He moves to the floor but the next time I see him he's got the car on the table again! Ridiculous. So I took the cars and they are now in the closet. He almost cried. Would you like a WAAHHHmburger and some french cries? Whiner.
He also keeps sneezing on shit. Every time he sneezes or coughs, I tell him to cover his mouth. If I ask to the class, "How do we cough?" they all put their mouths to their elbows and fake-cough. I KNOW HE KNOWS WHAT TO DO. No. Wednesday he sneezed in the bathroom and snot landed on my hand. WTF kid. COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. NO ONE WANTS YOUR SNOT AND GERMS. Except you...would you like a spoon for your mucus?
He also has aim problems in the bathroom. He'll stick his hand on his junk and wiggle around so that he thinks it's pointed down but I literally said today, "Look, you see that little hole? That's where the pee comes out. That's what needs to point down." He peed on the seat because I guess he thought pee drops out from the bottom of the penis instead of the, you know, hole at the end.
Fuck.
I do not know how many times I said "Get your fingers out of your mouth" today. It was SLOBBER fest! Every time I caught him, I made him wash his hands. Then, I took his little poofy cheeks in my hand and told him to look at my eyes. He would. Then as soon as I said, "Don't," his eyes would look away. Ugh.
I managed to get out "Don't put your hands in your mouth" after restarting about 8 times. He wouldn't look at me. Then I made him say it back. Hands washed, he returned to playing. For five minutes. Because his hands were in his mouth again.
Another thing Dan does repeatedly after being told to stop, besides EVERYTHING, is playing with cars on the table. "Dan, where do the cars go?" "The floor." He moves to the floor but the next time I see him he's got the car on the table again! Ridiculous. So I took the cars and they are now in the closet. He almost cried. Would you like a WAAHHHmburger and some french cries? Whiner.
He also keeps sneezing on shit. Every time he sneezes or coughs, I tell him to cover his mouth. If I ask to the class, "How do we cough?" they all put their mouths to their elbows and fake-cough. I KNOW HE KNOWS WHAT TO DO. No. Wednesday he sneezed in the bathroom and snot landed on my hand. WTF kid. COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. NO ONE WANTS YOUR SNOT AND GERMS. Except you...would you like a spoon for your mucus?
He also has aim problems in the bathroom. He'll stick his hand on his junk and wiggle around so that he thinks it's pointed down but I literally said today, "Look, you see that little hole? That's where the pee comes out. That's what needs to point down." He peed on the seat because I guess he thought pee drops out from the bottom of the penis instead of the, you know, hole at the end.
Fuck.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Even the boss is nuts
Yesterday at work the director, Miss Paula, told me to go to the toddler room at 12:30 because Miss Julia could only be over-ratio for 1.5 hours at naptime and she wanted the half hour I had to be there at the beginning of naptime and not the end. Okay, cool. We finished lunch, I got all my kids' hands washed and they went potty, and then at 12:30 I went down to the toddler room.
There were only seven kids, and the toddler ratio is 1:7. Uh..alright, cool. They hadn't gone potty yet so I stayed in the room while Miss Julia took them to the bathroom.
She had the last two in the bathroom changing poopy diapers on the changing tables when Miss Paula came into the room and looked at me. I was standing, watching the kids.
She started talking about how she had told me the wrong time, and that the kids needed to be on their cots at 12:30 and they should have been to the bathroom by now. I just looked at her.
"I'm talking about the conversation where I went into the room and told you, 'no, I was wrong about the time, you need to go at 12 instead of 12:30.'"
I said, "The last I heard, I was to come down here at 12:30."
She looked flustered and just walked off.
Sorry I'm not psychic, boss.
Just to make sure, I asked Miss Carolyn and she said that Paula never came into our room and told me to go at noon.
Crazy ridiculous.
There were only seven kids, and the toddler ratio is 1:7. Uh..alright, cool. They hadn't gone potty yet so I stayed in the room while Miss Julia took them to the bathroom.
She had the last two in the bathroom changing poopy diapers on the changing tables when Miss Paula came into the room and looked at me. I was standing, watching the kids.
She started talking about how she had told me the wrong time, and that the kids needed to be on their cots at 12:30 and they should have been to the bathroom by now. I just looked at her.
"I'm talking about the conversation where I went into the room and told you, 'no, I was wrong about the time, you need to go at 12 instead of 12:30.'"
I said, "The last I heard, I was to come down here at 12:30."
She looked flustered and just walked off.
Sorry I'm not psychic, boss.
Just to make sure, I asked Miss Carolyn and she said that Paula never came into our room and told me to go at noon.
Crazy ridiculous.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Miss C's Dictionary
I come up with some cool terms at daycare, so I'll write a few down:
Becoming a noodle: an uncanny ability for children to make all their bones like cooked pasta, consequently falling in a shapeless blob to the floor in an act of utter defiance
Living rigor: when children become as rigid as humanly possible (usually when you pick them up to stick them in the time-out chair)
Becoming a noodle: an uncanny ability for children to make all their bones like cooked pasta, consequently falling in a shapeless blob to the floor in an act of utter defiance
Living rigor: when children become as rigid as humanly possible (usually when you pick them up to stick them in the time-out chair)
Toilet Phobia
Corey does not like the toilet. My miracle-working ways have made him comfortable with the urinal, and he regularly pees there, which is AWESOME, but he is terrified of the toilet.
Friday he had to poop. I knew it, he knew it, the American people knew it. Every time I changed his wet pull up there was a little skid, like it was trying like hell to come out and he clamped shut the doors to freedom and told it to get its ass back inside.
The bathroom, take one:
"Corey, do you have to go poopy?"
*Corey nods fevently*
"Do you want to try and go poopy on the potty?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."
After this exciting incident, which resulted in him adamantly refusing to even SIT on the toilet, we just put his pull-up on and decided he would go when he was ready.
He shuffled around with clenched cheeks while he played, uttering "mommy mommy mommy" under his breath. He still wouldn't poop.
Naptime. He fell asleep and the other teacher noticed that someone smelled like poop when it came time to wake up. I hypothesized that Corey's bowels had played a game of "Everybody Out" while he was sleeping.
Nope.
He has sub-conscious sphincter control.
The bathroom, take two.
"Corey, doesn't your tummy hurt?"
*Corey nods*
"Your tummy is telling you that you need to go poopy."
*Corey nods again, points at urinal*
"You can't go poop in there. You have to go on the big potty"
"Nooo."
"Do you want to try and go poopy on the potty?"
"Noooo!"
"If you sit down and try, you'll get a sticker. Would you like a sticker?"
"Yeah!"
*Corey goes to the toilet, pulls down his pants, steps on the stepstool, turns in a circle, and gets back down*
"Corey, you need to sit on the toilet and go poop. Do you need help getting on the potty?"
*Corey nods*
*I pick up Corey and put him on the toilet*
*Corey jumps up like I stuck his ass in glowing embers*
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
So I pulled up his pull-up and told him he could poop in it.
His mom picked him up and we told her he had been holding it for about six hours. She said he does it at home too, because he doesn't like the potty.
I guess that's one diaper I won't worry about changing any time soon.
Friday he had to poop. I knew it, he knew it, the American people knew it. Every time I changed his wet pull up there was a little skid, like it was trying like hell to come out and he clamped shut the doors to freedom and told it to get its ass back inside.
The bathroom, take one:
"Corey, do you have to go poopy?"
*Corey nods fevently*
"Do you want to try and go poopy on the potty?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."
After this exciting incident, which resulted in him adamantly refusing to even SIT on the toilet, we just put his pull-up on and decided he would go when he was ready.
He shuffled around with clenched cheeks while he played, uttering "mommy mommy mommy" under his breath. He still wouldn't poop.
Naptime. He fell asleep and the other teacher noticed that someone smelled like poop when it came time to wake up. I hypothesized that Corey's bowels had played a game of "Everybody Out" while he was sleeping.
Nope.
He has sub-conscious sphincter control.
The bathroom, take two.
"Corey, doesn't your tummy hurt?"
*Corey nods*
"Your tummy is telling you that you need to go poopy."
*Corey nods again, points at urinal*
"You can't go poop in there. You have to go on the big potty"
"Nooo."
"Do you want to try and go poopy on the potty?"
"Noooo!"
"If you sit down and try, you'll get a sticker. Would you like a sticker?"
"Yeah!"
*Corey goes to the toilet, pulls down his pants, steps on the stepstool, turns in a circle, and gets back down*
"Corey, you need to sit on the toilet and go poop. Do you need help getting on the potty?"
*Corey nods*
*I pick up Corey and put him on the toilet*
*Corey jumps up like I stuck his ass in glowing embers*
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
So I pulled up his pull-up and told him he could poop in it.
His mom picked him up and we told her he had been holding it for about six hours. She said he does it at home too, because he doesn't like the potty.
I guess that's one diaper I won't worry about changing any time soon.
Will Learns Colorful Language
This happened a few weeks ago. I had taken Will to the bathroom (always a tricky feat - does he really have to go or is he just looking for an escape and a chance to bolt?) and he decided he was going to become a noodle on the steps. When I did get him into the bathroom, he wouldn't pee or even try, so I said we were going back to the classroom.
He stood in the doorway and gave me his patented "I hate you, stupid." (Which comes out "I hatechoo, stoopit"). He said this twice and when I didn't react he flung this little nugget at me: "You fuckin' ass." Ooooh, what was that, little man? As if he had heard this internal double-take, he repeated himself in what I can only imagine was a selfless act to make sure I caught what he had said to me and he had made himself perfectly clear. How charming and thoughtful of him.
I took him back to the classroom so he could tell the other teachers his new words.
Too bad this was before the "If You're Angry And You Know It" song. We could have avoided the whole ordeal had he only known he could take a deep breath or tell a friend instead of saying such ghastly things.
He stood in the doorway and gave me his patented "I hate you, stupid." (Which comes out "I hatechoo, stoopit"). He said this twice and when I didn't react he flung this little nugget at me: "You fuckin' ass." Ooooh, what was that, little man? As if he had heard this internal double-take, he repeated himself in what I can only imagine was a selfless act to make sure I caught what he had said to me and he had made himself perfectly clear. How charming and thoughtful of him.
I took him back to the classroom so he could tell the other teachers his new words.
Too bad this was before the "If You're Angry And You Know It" song. We could have avoided the whole ordeal had he only known he could take a deep breath or tell a friend instead of saying such ghastly things.
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