Halloween Recap, Part I

So, this is how it went:

Jelly Bean and I went into the daycare a bit late in the morning and I hung around for about an hour and a half before the trick or treating started. All the other little kiddies wanted to sit on my lap and be my friend. Jelly Bean? Jelly Bean? Where are you? Off minding your own business whilst I am swarmed over by barbarians? Oh. Ok. So, he was totally not caring whether or not I was there at all!

We wrangled children into costumes and tried to get them all to three separate classrooms to "trick-or-treat." It was rough. In the end, I grabbed up all the bags and laid them in front of the teacher in the other classroom. She looked at me bewildered and I said, "Fill 'em up!" Did she, or anyone, really expect the 1-year-olds to wait patiently, holding their candy sacks to be filled? Um, whatever.

So, when that was over, we stripped the kids out of their hot/frilly/uncomfortable costumes and I got to see magic. No, not a show. Real Magic. See, Jelly's teacher is the hip punk-rocker kinda chick with dyed hair and black eyeliner. She got out a box of cookies and said, "Come sit down if you want a cookie!" And...all the little babies toddled over and sat, good as gold, around her like a ring of fairies around their queen, daintily nibbling on cinnamon treats. Whoa. Blew my mind. I mean, I can't get my kid to sit down nicely, um...ever. Even when he is strapped down in the high chair, he is struggling to break free...or jump and break his neck, or something. But here, she got fifteen babies to do her bidding for cinnamon cookies. Magic.

So, then to work for a bit. Frantic. Frantic. Gotta get it done. Newsletter. Committee. Please no one call me....

Leave 10 minutes later than I planned to, armed with boxes to go home, load up cupcakes and juice boxes and head to Michael's school. Frantic. Frantic driving. Ruuuuunnnn into the house. Ruuuunnn back to the car. Do it again. Finally driving towards the school. Yes. Please don't let me get stopped by a cop. Please don't let me get a ticket. Ok. We're here. Quick! Quick! Grab up as many things as I can possibly carry, resign myself to two trips and rush into the school.

Receptionist: How may I help you?
Me: (frazzled) IneedtosigninMsTeacherisexpectingme.
Receptionist: Sign in here and go on back.
Me:(scribble name, hoist up load, and off again!)

Get to the classroom, lightly knock. Go in, Ms. Teacher says, "Hello." I say, "I have to make another trip." Ms. Teacher says, "Ok." And goes back to reading the children a story. So I ruuuunnn out to the car, grab the rest of the treatbags/juice boxes/dirt cup cakes and head back in.

And wait.
And wait.
And wait....while Ms. Teacher reads the kiddies yet another story, in a fabulously witchy voice, I must say. I didn't know what to do with myself. I just stood there like a big oaf for 25 minutes, (yes, after all the rushing and 5 minutes of lateness) until she was done. Then, she informed me that they had just had pizza, right after lunch. Oh, I think. These kids are not going to be hungry for these cupcakes. And do you know the little buggers didn't even want the things I slaved over? The prissy little 6-year-old girls wouldn't touch them because of the cookie dirt and the candy worms. And half the little boys? Ate the worm and threw out the ENTIRE cupcake. Without even a bite. I just handed out napkins and juice boxes with a fake smile plastered on my face while they threw away the baked goods I slaved over, and had wrung the funding for from our BeeGee-tight budget.

As Honey would say: Those little shits.

Anyway, the whole thing was really uncomfortable. Ms. Teacher barely spoke to me at all. I really felt like an intruder. Oh well, you live and learn, right? No realistic looking cookie dirt for school children. Got it.