Skip ahead if boring stuff bores you.
I get to work and found out our staff of three had dropped to two, due to illness. This meant that seventy kids would have two adults looking after them. Three if you count the ineffectual boss, which I don't.
Michael is four years old and a professional asshole. He was bad in about twenty different ways within the first ten minutes of the day, and there was no way I could afford to spend most of my attention on him, so he won himself a time out, only we can't call it a time out anymore because the state of Georgia's daycare certification board says that's demeaning. So I "removed him from the situation." The kids never have a clue what that means, and when they ask, I say, "It's like a time out. Sit down."
It was my co-worker who caught him being bad again, and she's been wound real tight lately and today's chaos was too much for her, and she raised her voice at Michael. That's not something we generally do, but she did it, and man was it ever with the wrong kid at the wrong moment, because dude totally lost it and started screaming and punching her and she quit.
Then it was just me, and a full room, and hours. And tomorrow.
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my scintillating conversation with the Sprint lady:
jp: hello sprint lady, I would like option A.
sl: That's wonderful! We'll get you set up with option B immediately.
jp: uh, no, option A please.
sl: Option B it is!
That went on for a while and eventually I got set up with option C, which I think she invented. What the fuck.
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The woman in front of me in line at the grocery store bought five boxes of cherry jello, four cans of hairspray, and ten things of salt. The bagger saw my girly alcohol (comes with tampons and a hair ribbon) and said, "Have a nice day! Don't get drunk!"
