Thursday, August 14, 2014

Dear Ms. Becky: Pre-K Edition


Tomorrow my baby boy will begin Pre-Kindergarten – I can hardly believe it.  I am so thankful for his sweet teacher, Ms. Becky, whom we referred to all last year as “The Toddler Whisperer”. 


Dear Ms. Becky,

I am sure that you will be quite pleased that Little K has worked on absolutely no school skills over the summer and will be annoyed eager present to re-learn everything you taught him last year.  His brain is applesauce at this point.  I promise I had every intention of working through a really fantastic Pre-K work-book so that he wouldn’t forget his numbers and letters.  Please don’t think I’m bragging, but, we did get through the letter A.  I consider that a win.

You’ll also be happy to know that his confidence level is up to an alarming high, which has come mostly from learning to pedal his bicycle and his new-found love for swimming.  I apologize in advance for the number of times he tells you how remarkable he is.

His anxiety level has also increased – no clue where that comes from (has someone invented a sarcasm font yet?).  He is in constant need of knowing what is coming next and what is happening at all times – particularly what everyone else will be doing while he is sleeping/eating/at school/etc.  His healthy dose of inherited OCD is still going strong, so prepare for your belongings to be lined up and/or color-organized.


Little K has gone from wanting to be a professional race-car driver to wanting to be a ninja turtle.  Not a ninja.  No, his dreams for the future include mutating into a giant turtle who is also a ninja.  I’m sorry for the time that you will accidentally get hit with a “nut-chuck”.

Speaking of nut-chucks… I have purposely not corrected Little K's pronunciation on some specific words.  I know, I’m a total a-hole mom.  But I think that pasketti, kanormous, wuv, mext, bootiful, fumbs up, and teemage mutagen ninja turtles are all pretty adorable.  I’ll admit that sometimes the adorability of his pronunciations is questionable.  Take my advice and don’t let him be the one to give an “all cwear” for anything – that one isn’t nearly as charming.

His vocabulary has exploded over the summer, and he often uses words in an entertainingly wrong context.  He has no clue what sporadic means, but he knows how to say it, so by God, he is going to use it.

I’m sorry that he still picks boogers and grabs his wiener.  I’m also still sorry that no one in our family is mature enough to call the male anatomy anything other than a wiener.  He does, however, know that babies come out of baginas… so I’m sorry if he teaches your other students that important life lesson.

Again, I’m sorry for the time he will pee on your floor.  We’ve been mostly accident free for the summer, but he’s also had the liberty of peeing on bushes and trees when necessary for the last few months.  You might want to keep an eye on any artificial plants you keep in your classroom.

He no longer announces when he poops (you’re welcome), but he does get in a hurry to come out of the bathroom to make important announcements.  There will likely be several times when he will burst out of the bathroom, hands unwashed, pants are around his ankles, and his underwear pulled up crooked with his wiener hanging out the side.  You are welcome, in advance, for the laugh.

He will dawdle during snack time like it is his life’s calling.  Then he will most certainly cry when snack time is over because he is starving.  If I could physically force him to chew and swallow, I would.  Suggestions are welcome here.

He whines.  A lot.  He cries.  A lot.  I’m sorry for when he cries, throws himself on the floor, and shouts “I give up!” because he can’t find the right puzzle piece or something equally horrible.

He talks all. the. time.  He never stops.  Constant words.  It’s exhausting and I’m sorry.

He will announce when he farts.  If he smells something, he will ask you if you farted.  I’m sorry.  I have no explanation for this other than he is a boy and boys are gross.

I’m not at all only sort-of sorry that he has a toy that he calls a ball sack.  It is, quite literally, a pouch full of gel balls.  I think it’s hilarious.  I guess what I should be apologizing for is my adolescent sense of humor.

Little K does not miss anything.  Anything.  His radar ears hear and detect every single word he is not supposed to hear.  And he will repeat it – unless you want him to.  We recently attended a wedding at the school’s church with your Vietnamese priest officiating.  Little K has since been walking around saying, in a Vietnamese accent, “Let us pway”.

I am trying to decide if Little K has developed the art of schmoozing, or if he has just realized that being kind is often returned with kindness from others.  But in the last few days him telling me I was the “most bootifulest mommy ever” was paired with wanting fruit snacks, and being “a real fumbs up girl” meant needing a cookie.  Quite often he tells me that I am, “the sweetest, best girl ever,” for no reason other than he is speaking kindly.  I sincerely hope he brightens your days often with sweet words directed your way.

Watch out, he totally knows how cute he is!

He is constantly singing and dancing and making up songs and building things and asking question after question after question and shouting and laughing and telling jokes and saying “watch me” and “I’ve got a great idea!  He is clumsy and goofy and makes spit bubbles and fart noises and I’m convinced that he actually produces dirt rather than skin cells.  So he’s pretty much a regular boy.

I stand by our previous goal of only screwing him up just enough to make him funny.  So far, I still think we’re doing alright.

Thank you, in advance, for all that you do and for keeping Little K In Good Company!

-Kelsey





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