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p>“Yes, Kelsey IS learning to clap!” I interjected, hoping Ms. Sarah believed the crock of crap I was spewing. Ms. Sarah gave a confused laugh and began showing us around the classroom, explaining all the activities the teachers have planned.Since when do they do food prep and jewelry making in pre-preschool? I expect a fancy necklace and some hand-rolled sushi out of this for what tuition costs. Plus Math and Science? Who are we kidding? I better not have to help with any homework.Ms. Sarah then crouched down to toddler eye level and asked Joey if she was excited to start school. Bad move, Ms. Sarah. Thrilled by the direct attention, Joey took the opportunity to show off just how smart she is.“Clabicle!” She shouted as she ferociously jutted her little hand into the space above Ms. Sarah’s clavicle bone. I knew I shouldn’t have let her watch Kung Fu Panda.I was mortified! That was so obviously the supraclavicular fossa. And damn she got in there good. Hollowed that thing out like she was carving a pumpkin.Ms. Sarah gasped and stood up quickly. She regained her composure and plastered on a “You’re the worst but I need your parents’ money” smile and asked Joey what her favorite thing to do at home is.Aside from going Kung Fu Panda on unsuspecting adults?Joey shrugged and answered, “Find dog poot” in a bored tone, as if Ms. Sarah should already know the answer to that one.It’s true. Joey loves helping me clean up dog poop by screaming “POOT, POOT, OVER HERE MOMMY!” while I scoop turds from the yard with a giant metal Pooper Scooper. It’s her go-to activity after hide-and-seek behind glass doors. I like to think

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of it as mother-daughter bonding time.The corners of Ms. Sarah’s mouth sagged, too defeated to conjure up the fake smile as she gestured for Joey to follow her to the gym.“No, no. Not yet,” Joey replied, wagging her sassy finger in Ms. Sarah’s direction. I swear I saw Ms. Sarah flinch at the sudden hand gesture. Even with the sticky purple jelly under her nails from the Uncrustable she scarfed down in the parking lot, it was clear who was really in charge here.As the tour continued, Joey found a bin of stuffed animals. She shushed Ms. Sarah for asking questions about our dogs while focusing intently on making a giraffe gnaw at Kelsey’s arm. “Don’t eat the baby. WHY!” She screeched and pretended to sob.It was a move straight from my book. I made a mental note to stop playing stuffed animals with her.By the end of the thirty-minute meeting, I was sweating profusely, Kelsey was in hysterics because she couldn’t climb the teacher’s desk, and Joey was in meltdown mode because I wouldn’t let her use my brush to brush Ms. Sarah’s hair.Overall, I’d say it went exactly as I expected it would.Can a child get kicked out of pre-registration for pre-preschool? I hope not. Without Joey home to egg her on, Kelsey might stop ripping clumps of my hair out and putting them in her sequin pony purse long enough for me to pee with the door closed. Ah, heaven.Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call Ms. Sarah and see how her “clabicle” is doing. I’d assemble an apology gift basket but all I have to fill it with is stale Goldfish crackers, half-eaten bananas, and juice boxes with no straws. Think she’d be into it?Wish me luck!</article></body>

My Toddler Talked Crap at Her Preschool Interview

Then went Kung Fu Panda on the program director

My oldest daughter will be a threenager in a few short months and I’ve decided to enroll her in a pre-preschool program for a few hours twice a week. I tell everyone it’s because she’s wildly intelligent and needs more of a challenge. That’s half of it.

If I’m being honest, I could use a break from being poked in the stomach and called “squishy” seven times before breakfast. I could also use a break from the toddler games. It gets tiring pretending I can’t find Joey during countless hours of hide-and-seek.

You’re behind the sliding glass door again, Joey. I can still see you. Now, please stop licking it.

Her intelligence has its limitations.

The class starts in September but Joey and I were given a tour of the school this week with the program director. It’s safe to say, Ms. Sarah won’t forget my child anytime soon.

We arrived a few minutes late because my youngest had her usual diaper blowout as my hand reached the doorknob to leave the house.

“So sorry we’re late,” I said, carrying Kelsey sideways like an angry, flailing purse while Joey walked in circles around Ms. Sarah — a shark circling her prey.

“Kelsey Crap,” Joey announced, switching the direction of her circle.

“Yes, Kelsey IS learning to clap!” I interjected, hoping Ms. Sarah believed the crock of crap I was spewing. Ms. Sarah gave a confused laugh and began showing us around the classroom, explaining all the activities the teachers have planned.

Since when do they do food prep and jewelry making in pre-preschool? I expect a fancy necklace and some hand-rolled sushi out of this for what tuition costs. Plus Math and Science? Who are we kidding? I better not have to help with any homework.

Ms. Sarah then crouched down to toddler eye level and asked Joey if she was excited to start school. Bad move, Ms. Sarah. Thrilled by the direct attention, Joey took the opportunity to show off just how smart she is.

“Clabicle!” She shouted as she ferociously jutted her little hand into the space above Ms. Sarah’s clavicle bone. I knew I shouldn’t have let her watch Kung Fu Panda.

I was mortified! That was so obviously the supraclavicular fossa. And damn she got in there good. Hollowed that thing out like she was carving a pumpkin.

Ms. Sarah gasped and stood up quickly. She regained her composure and plastered on a “You’re the worst but I need your parents’ money” smile and asked Joey what her favorite thing to do at home is.

Aside from going Kung Fu Panda on unsuspecting adults?

Joey shrugged and answered, “Find dog poot” in a bored tone, as if Ms. Sarah should already know the answer to that one.

It’s true. Joey loves helping me clean up dog poop by screaming “POOT, POOT, OVER HERE MOMMY!” while I scoop turds from the yard with a giant metal Pooper Scooper. It’s her go-to activity after hide-and-seek behind glass doors. I like to think of it as mother-daughter bonding time.

The corners of Ms. Sarah’s mouth sagged, too defeated to conjure up the fake smile as she gestured for Joey to follow her to the gym.

“No, no. Not yet,” Joey replied, wagging her sassy finger in Ms. Sarah’s direction. I swear I saw Ms. Sarah flinch at the sudden hand gesture. Even with the sticky purple jelly under her nails from the Uncrustable she scarfed down in the parking lot, it was clear who was really in charge here.

As the tour continued, Joey found a bin of stuffed animals. She shushed Ms. Sarah for asking questions about our dogs while focusing intently on making a giraffe gnaw at Kelsey’s arm. “Don’t eat the baby. WHY!” She screeched and pretended to sob.

It was a move straight from my book. I made a mental note to stop playing stuffed animals with her.

By the end of the thirty-minute meeting, I was sweating profusely, Kelsey was in hysterics because she couldn’t climb the teacher’s desk, and Joey was in meltdown mode because I wouldn’t let her use my brush to brush Ms. Sarah’s hair.

Overall, I’d say it went exactly as I expected it would.

Can a child get kicked out of pre-registration for pre-preschool? I hope not. Without Joey home to egg her on, Kelsey might stop ripping clumps of my hair out and putting them in her sequin pony purse long enough for me to pee with the door closed. Ah, heaven.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call Ms. Sarah and see how her “clabicle” is doing. I’d assemble an apology gift basket but all I have to fill it with is stale Goldfish crackers, half-eaten bananas, and juice boxes with no straws. Think she’d be into it?

Wish me luck!