I'm always thinking ahead.
Now, I'd been to the Parents' Kindergarten Orientation two nights prior, so I'd already scoped out his potential teachers. The rundown of possible options were as follows:
1. Crazy Cat Lady
2. Hyper Loud Lady
3. Timid Small Lady
4. Old School Church Lady
5. THE PERFECT TEACHER
Obviously, I shared none of this with the child, who was still mumbling about PTSD flashbacks from his preschool days. Instead, I began to plot secretly.
SO. As I said, I dolled it up. I put on this amazing dress I'd just procured from the Goodwill, figuring that perhaps the fancy attire would throw some positivity into the universe and my good deeds (like showering...and the dress) wouldn't go unnoticed. That night, I lugged the boys and our sacks of school supplies into the cafeteria and stood in line with about a thousand other parents and children. My energy was volatile at this point, ready to tip one way or another.
When we got to the front of the line, a woman handed me an index card. Plus One had been assigned to THE PERFECT TEACHER. (You guys. The dress IS pretty fabulous.)
We found our way to Ms. PT's classroom and stood in line to shake her hand and exchange paperwork and glue sticks. Plus One was already reeling, however, and wanted to be cut loose in this new amazing room with the pretty teacher and all these toys and LINCOLN LOGS MOM I SEE LINCOLN LOGS, OOH OOH AND A TOILET THERE'S A TOILET OVER THERE. I did my best to encourage his excitement while taming the energy just a tad. His brother, however, was only getting started. I set the school supplies down and picked T9 up as a safety precaution.
That's when the boys began to notice my dress. Which, is nice of course, in theory--being noticed for the stunning beauty I can be when I'm relatively clean and not wearing pajama pants. But the thing they noticed most was the beaded neck area of the dress.
Do you see where the beading is? How it gets kinda close to the...ahem...breast area? Because things went from "nite dwess, mommy" to LET'S PLAY MOM'S DRESS LIKE A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT in about 12 seconds flat. I fidgeted awkwardly, redirecting their hands OFF MY CHEST, but it was of little use, with my limited use of hands. By the time we were before Ms. PT, I was sweating, struggling to hold onto a hoard of school supplies, smiling through a maniacal grimace, and had at least a hand or two shoved into the top half of my dress, which I was still attempting to swat away by blowing at them and jerking myself around like a cat with a sock on its head.
Today was Plus One's first day in Kindergarten. Let's all hope that his mother's knack for first impressions does not follow him through the rest of his elementary school career.