What Happens at Gramma's….

 

If you’ve been following my blog up to now, you’ll be very well aware that I volunteer at my granddaughter’s kindergarten class for Center Time every Tuesday morning. As much as I blog about my kindergarten adventures, it would be hard to miss at this point!

So this is a story about, not as much my granddaughter, but my daughter and her book.

Doesn’t seem to fit, does it?  My daughter…   Her book….  Me volunteering at kindergarten…

It does.  Read on…

 

So for the past two weeks, I’ve gone by to pick up my granddaughter on my way to my volunteer time since that happens first thing in the morning.  Kelly and Andy live about 7 minutes from her school and it adds about 10 minutes to my ride to swing by and get Kayla.  With my daughter getting ready to pop give birth to her second child in a few weeks, not having to waddle out to the car drive to school in the morning is one less thing she has to deal with one day a week.

Plus, Kayla and I love it.  Kayla is so excited to be driven to school by Gramma Kat because she gets to go in the front doors of the school, go into the office with me so I can sign in, and walk with me to class one day a week.  Wee!!!!

So every Tuesday when I volunteer, I have to stop at the office to sign in and get my electric yellow “This-Person-Is-Not-An-Axe-Murderer” badge so I can walk the halls unimpeded.  The badge has my name, what I’m doing there (Class Volunteer) and where I’m going (Smith) and…ugg…my picture.  

Really?

A picture at 8:35 in the morning.  This should be against the law.

But I love my granddaughter so I submit.

 

Now that Mikayla has been going in with me, she’s gotten it into her head that she needs to be in the pictures on my badge too.  So I lift her up and it captures a picture of an old woman and a little girl laughing their heads off

…and that’s what I wear around school for an hour every Tuesday.  

So, here are the badges from the last two weeks…

 

This past Tuesday afternoon, Kayla’s class had their holiday party.  So I picked Kelly up at her house and we trooped back up to the school and into the office to get our badges.  We wait our turns in line with all the other parents and grandparents holding cupcakes and wearing ugly Christmas sweaters.

Then it’s Kelly’s turn.  

She gets up there and clicks.  And types.  And clicks.  And types.  

 

And clicks.  And types.

By now I’m wondering what she’s doing so I look over her shoulder and this is what I see.

 

She’s written them a book on her badge.

Grinning, I say, “Honey, you don’t need to write them a book.”

As she continues typing unperturbed, she says, “I just want to be thorough.”

(Then she smirks at me.)

 

I’m still laughing when I step up to the computer for my turn.

I click and type my name, “Class Volunteer” and “Smith” and click the button to take the picture for the badge.

When I get it, this is what I see.

My daughter is in the background sticking her tongue out at me. 

“That’s what you get.”  And she laughs.

 

When the party was over and we’d emerged from the classroom pretty much intact after an hour and a half of half-crazed kindergarteners, Kelly ripped off her badge, handed it to me and said, “Here.  I’m sure you want this so you can rag on me in your blog.”

 

She knows me so well.

 

(Thanks for being a good sport, Kel.)