The first words out of Jill's mouth when she walked in the door from school were, "Can Faith come over?" Faith is already standing in our house.
"No. You have to leave for gymnastics in ten minutes."
Jill dissolves into tears. Faith leaves. Jill screams that she hates gymnastics. Liar. She loves gymnastics. Asks everyday to go. I don't fall for it.
"Jill just put your leotard on, and grab a snack."
She stands there defiant. Then, a smile expands across her face.
"Oh yeah," she says. "I have something in my backpack that once I show you, you won't let me go to gymnastics." She happily skips over to her backpack...
and pulls out a letter from her teacher.
Apparently, my child, got sent to "time away" (Not "time out", folks, that would be mean. Time away.) for talking. All was well, until she mouthed off to her teacher. I believe it went something like this.
"You are stupid and I am not going to time away." She is on the verge of loosing their Art Party. Whatever the hell that is.
I stare her down. "What did you say to your teacher? Did you really call her stupid." I supress a smile, 'cause I kind of agree with her. The teacher is a bit stupid. And? After she told me she can handle her own class when I made some suggestions about Jill's talking, I sort of quit giving a shit what Jill's behavior was like in class. I manage to hold the giggles in. I keep staring at Jill. Giving her the evil eye.
She looks at the ground, realizing that maybe, just maybe, the note home from the teacher was not the best plan of action for missing gymnastics and having a friend over.
Quietly she puts on her leotard. She gets a snack. She gets into the car. She doesn't mention having a friend over again.
I smirk. I win.