Principal’s Office

Today I received a text from Nate’s teacher telling me she needed to talk to me about his behavior.  Could I talk at 1?  Of course, I can talk at 1.

The whole morning I’m imagining what it could be.  It’s like the dreaded walk to the principal’s office.  At 19 months, he’s just transitioned up to the next classroom, which we fondly refer to as “Lord of the Flies Class”… ever since the era when it devolved into a crazy bitefest and Jake was admitted into a pack of roving, gnashing toddlers.

My mommy brain was churning.  Is it biting?  Pushing?  Hitting?  (Nathaniel bashfully hit me earlier this week.  Yes, bashfully.)  Maybe he’s disobeying everything they say and laughing in their faces?  (We wouldn’t be even remotely shocked if this was the case.)  Is he in trouble for standing on tables?  Repeatedly jumping in the air and landing on his bottom?  Spitting?  Throwing.  It’s totally throwing.  That kid is a sand-throwing menace to society.

She calls me exactly at 1.  On the dot.

So, what is Nathaniel’s call inducing behavior?  Sitting in another teacher’s lap too much and getting her to constantly hold him.

Honestly, I feel like I dodged a bullet.


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