Thursday, May 18, 2006

Playgroup

This is totally new territory for me and I'm not entirely sure what to do. Ok the not knowing what to do is pretty typical but shut up already.
With Girl X, I was too busy to even know what playgroup was.
But now? Now I am home all day with the Child Who Eats Cat and there has to be something better than eating Cat with which to occupy his time. Like painting my living room or finish attaching the new fabric to the chairs which I got bored with months ago and Mr X is all like "Are you ever going to finish this or what?" and I'm all like "Yeah, just let me teach your son how to use the staple gun and we'll be set" or he could maybe reorganize my scrapbook stuff because I don't want to.
Right.
Then I found an ad in the paper for a playgroup. Tuesdays 10-12. How bad could it be?


Did I really just ask that? Because I think if I just think back to all the occasions that Hurricane has had a chance to play with other children his age, this could get ugly.

There is his cousin who is 6 months older but smaller than him. He knocked her over and sat on her for fun. She cried and he laughed.

There is the daughter of a friend who is just 2 weeks younger than him and thinks he's the coolest thing since playdough became non-toxic. She kept hugging him and he gave her The Look and ran screaming after the first 3 hugs.

There was the boy who tried to share his toys and Hurricane happily took his truck and ran off.

Then there is his nasty habit of breaking things (my glasses) and eating things that he shouldn't (Cat, that piece of poop Mr X had to pry from his fingers before he could shove it in his mouth, my nose).

They are going to hate us, but won't it be fun?

3 comments:

Jay said...

Well, at least he'll have the opportunity to learn how to play nicely, which he needs to do before he gets to school because teachers do not like that kind of thing.

Elanor Rigby said...

I'm just a random person who stumbled across your blog around Christmastime, and so thoroughly enjoy reading your posts that I check every few days right before I go to sleep just because the posts alwas give me a little giggle. Not being a mother yet myself, I forsee my experience being much like yours, as I am also spectacularly clumsy and have no idea how any of the bones in my body are still intact.
I can completely relate to the mother-in-law thing. My future mother-in-law is Chinese and acts so sweet and wonderful to my face, but poorly hides her disdain for me as the girlfriend of her only perfect son.
Ooh, and my boyfriend also has one of those insanely tacky John Wayne velvet paintings in his room. He refuses to get rid of it and told me it's a symbol of his masculinity. Since when is velvet masculine?

Mrs.X said...

Miss Jay- It is my fervent hope that he learns to play politely but the more realistic goal is that everyone makes it out without some sort of broken body part courtesy of the one known best as Hurricane.

Elanor- Ah, but it isn't velvet. It is felt. FELT. That horrible weak material best left to puppets. Still.... velvet? I hope you have a closet to hide yours in too!
All I can say is, the best way to cope with the insanity is to have those little games you can play in your head. And oocasionally outloud. Just be sure to have your running shoes on for when she begins to cuss you out in her language!