Excerpts from Paula's Diary

THE TWELVE MINUTE WALK TO SCHOOL

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School begins at 8:30 A.M. It takes us twelve minutes to walk there. This morning we left at 8:22 A.M. As we began the first block I heard my son making frustrated noises of discontent.

THOMAS E: This stupid watch. It won't stay on it needs another hole.

ME: I can help with that sometime, but not now. It's time to go to school. I don't know why you brought that watch. If you wanted to play with it you should have gotten up when I told you. It is only going to frustrate you and you don't know how to tell time anyway.
THOMAS E: I do too. It's 4:40 o'clock.
ALLEY: We're really early. Let me see it. (looking at the watch) No, it's 4:44.
ME: Well then we're not that early.
ALLEY: Oh look, a tennis ball.

THOMAS E: I want one.
ME: There was only one.
THOMAS E: I want one.
ME: It's not a store it's the stom drain and there was only one tennis ball.
THOMAS E: We have to share it.

ALLEY: No, we don't.
THOMAS E: Mo-om, Alley won't share.
ME: Alley, please share.
THOMAS E: Then I'm not going to share with you and I'm going to punch you in the nose.
ME: Thomas E, that's not a good solution. We don't want to hurt anyone.
THOMAS E: I do.
ME: Oh. Well, then I don't know what to say to you.
THOMAS E: Alley, can I have it after you?
ME: Thomas E, that's not a nice asking voice.
THOMAS E: Alley, can I please have it after you?
ALLEY: No.
ME: Alley, he asked nicely.
ALLEY: Well, I don't like to share with him because he dosn't give stuff back.
ME: Thomas E please give it back when she asks for it.
THOMAS E: I w-i-l-l.
ALLEY: Okay. I'll give it to you at the end of this block.
ME: This is the street where all of the cop cars and fire trucks were when they drove President Reagan's body from the hospital. Homeless people were all up and down the sidewalks to pay tribute to him.
THOMAS E: You said you'll give it to me at the end of this block.
ALLEY: I am.
ME: It's a tennis ball. It really shouldn't take that long to hand to someone. (Alley gives him the ball) Thank you, Alley. We're gonna be late. Could we hurry please?

ALLEY: O.K. you had a turn. I want it back.
THOMAS E: No. It's mine now.
ME: Thomas E, that's why Alley doesn't like to share with you.
ALLEY: I told you he wouldn't give it back.
ME: He will give it back. Thomas E, give it back. You guys, we're late. If you wanted to fight over a tennis ball you needed to get up when I told you to.
THOMAS E: It's 4:58 o'clock.
*my watch 8:35 A.M.*

ALLEY: How come we're always late?
NOTE: neither of my children play tennis.

FINANCIAL PLANNING NOTES FOR MEETING WITH ACCOUNTANT

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Currently, although I know it's not really a plan in the strictest sense, I'm hoping my bunny lives long enough to assume my debt.

To cut costs I'm having a less senior member of the firm take over my bookkeeping.

I've increased the incentive (bribe) I've offered my son for putting away his toys each day to $50.00 in hopes he can pay for his own college education.

I was thinking, to save bank fees, I could keep my money in this dish.

Kindergarten

I am relieved that my children are nearing the close of their kindergarten, fourth and sixth grade school years, respectively, in part because I'm not sure I have the strength to sign one more permission slip nor to oversee the painfully slow completion of one more mixed review math worksheet whose concepts appear to be brand spanking new to my little student.

Mostly, however, I am relieved that my children are nearing the close of their kindergarten, fourth and sixth grade school years, respectively, because no one graduates from these years. Last year my son "graduated" from preschool and my oldest daughter "graduated" from elementary school. I find all of this "graduating" absurd. Deep down inside we all know we each deserve only one graduation and some of us didn't even get that far. There is something about listening to a high achieving fifth grader make a speech about the future that makes me stir in my folding chair. The preschool ones are worse:

"This morning while I ate from the center of my toast, with the familiar sounds of my Mom begging me to hurry in the background. I held my toast up from my plate and thought. I thought the hole in my toast looks like an "O". My fellow preschoolers, "O" is for opportunity. Next year we'll be kindergartners. We're not babies anymore.

From here on in almost everything we put in our mouths will be a food or a drink. Choking hazards are a thing of the past. No more crying when we get dropped off at school. Instead we'll part dry eyed at the kindergarten classroom door barking orders at our adult care givers about what snack we want tomorrow and whose house we'd rather live at. Kindergarten is an opportunity to find out who we are and first grade is when we lose homework credit for not writing it at the top of the page.

"O" is also for obesity and let me remind you we're in the midst of an epidemic. We'll be bigger than the preschoolers next year. So lets do our part to control the epidemic by chasing the preschoolers a little faster on the yard..."

I didn't get the entire text of the speech because the wind was blowing over the Mr. Microphone and I got distracted by the juice spillers. It must have prepared them though because kindergarten has gone fairly smooth.