I felt like a good mom for the 1st three days of 1st grade. Then reality hit.
It was a good run, those 3 days.
You see, Clifford the Big Red Dog came home with Will on Thursday. We were supposed to play with Clifford and document his adventures in our house in the class journal. The instructions clearly said that parents should and can help. The teacher even sent home last year’s book so we could see examples.
Last year, every single entry was written by a parent.
This year, the two kids who got Clifford before Will wrote the entries themselves. Showoffs.
Do you know how long it would take Will to write a page about Clifford? Do you know how much begging, pleading and bribing would have to ensue on my part to get him to write an entire page? And when ALL of last year’s entries were by parents anyway?
So I wrote 8-10 sentences about Clifford riding home with Will on his bike, staying home for dinner while we went to a restaurant, and cuddling in Will’s bed for bedtime stories. All in my own handwriting. Will signed his page, but he didn’t write the page like the other two Einsteins.
Oh, well. So I’m a bad mom for not making him to do it himself. I should have been in last year’s class. It was a whole class of bad moms and dads. Maybe I can get him to skip a grade. My only hope is that I’m a trend setter and every other parent who gets Clifford next says a silent “thank you” before writing the entry themselves, which is perfectly acceptable. Clifford only goes home once, though, so I’ll never know if that’s the case. The only thing I do know is that my bad momdom has officially started its reign over 1st grade!
