Lyla came home with a Halloween treat bag containing candy and that coloring book. She finished dinner and was allowed one Kit Kat, and it was like we suddenly entered the land of bizarro-eating. I didn't know she could be that conscientious with food, like Charlie Bucket with a Wonka bar.
The bag also contained Skittles, but I hid those in a cupboard.
Between last night and this morning, I endured seven hours of parent-teacher conferences. Most of the conferences were pleasant, but a couple of the parents were a little too passionate about the need for their little darling to get (not earn, get) an A. Those conversations were exhausting. "Your kid will have an A the second he deserves one," are the exact words I should've said, but of course I flowered it up while my chest tightened.
It wasn't as bad as I'm making it seem. These are parents who care about their kids. They're not adversarial toward school and teachers, just involved and concerned.
So I need to figure out how to dial myself down to "involved and concerned" when I ask Lyla's daycare director on Monday why the hell they're sending Skittles home with toddlers.
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