![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Yesterday was Abbey's kindergarten orientation, and I think I've stopped weeping long enough to write about it now. Can I just say that kindergarten has gotten really cool since I was away? I mean, let's start with the HUGE playhouse in the middle of the classroom, and move on to the intensely awesome toys they have at their disposal, the collection of iMacs... And don't even get me started on the playground equipment... (Good news: some places actually still have real swings, not those wussy little plastic jobbers with a swinging arc about three feet long that the personal injury lawyers seem to insist on.) Lake George Elementary is built on the "cluster" system, which I'd never seen before. The idea is that several grades get jammed together, each grade taking up its own segment of a single enormous room. That way, if someone is doing considerably better or worse than their peers in a particular subject, they can head over to the appropriate grade's corner for that subject only, then head back afterward. Neat idea, and one that apparently they've been doing locally for a long time (Kristi's an LG grad, and grew up with the system herself). Kindergarten is the one exception: there are five kindergarten classes, and they make up their own cluster.
So anyway, orientation went well. The kids were handed out a checklist of things to do ("Find your cubby," "Find the bathroom," "Go to the art section and color a picture of Tigger, and put your name on it"), all of which Abbey handed well, although she had a habit of wandering off to other sections of the cluster; she was very thorough on the coloring, using pretty much every marker in the bin. In a Harbinger of Things to Come: the teacher had consistently misspelled her name on her nametag, paperwork, cubby label, drawer label, etc. etc. (spelling it Abigail, instead of Abigael; we kinda figured we'd have to put up with this sort of thing). When it was all over, we went to the cafeteria and Abbey had a popsicle with me and Kristi, and I was all bummed out. It wasn't a my-little-girl-is-growing-up thing, so much as, "I've just gone through all the first day of school stuff... and I don't get to go. No fair!!!!" Sigh. I miss school.
A quick aside: How long can I go on with the journal and continue to misspell Shawn Crete's first name? Old news: I am an idiot.
I am very happy that we finally have a date picked out (Sept. 24) for the next Game Night, or as I like to call it, Der Spielnächt. (Does anyone her speak enough German to tell me if a Spielnächt would be a "Der," a "Das," or a "Die"?) I was starting to go through withdrawal symptoms. Somehow, we've gone from a once-a-month thing to a once-every-other-week thing, with a danger of slipping into a once-in-a-whenever-we-get-around-to-it thing. This one should be good, though, because it's also going to be a de facto birthday party for about four people whose B-days fall around the same time. Whee!
I have no money. This will severely hinder my ability to buy CDs. *dramatic sigh*
I tuned into "Thirty Seconds to Fame" last night (which should tell you the quality of TV programming for the 8pm hour on Wednesdays right now), and promptly developed an infatuation with the Fyre Pixie, who sadly did not make the finals. The bounce pianist, on the other hand, did make it, which impressed me, since I don't think anyone in the audience has a clue as to just how ferking hard it is to do what he does. That's the trouble with juggling: the crowd goes nuts if you eat the apple, but the really difficult stuff goes right over their heads (pun, I swear, not intended).
It's only supposed to get into the 60's today. Yay! Autumn is here! Hooray! Now I get to cook soup and take long walks and contemplate converting to Wicca full-time and miss living in Oneonta and wear sweatshirts and sleep well. Warning to all: My annual Autumn-Weird-Out is nigh...
So anyway, orientation went well. The kids were handed out a checklist of things to do ("Find your cubby," "Find the bathroom," "Go to the art section and color a picture of Tigger, and put your name on it"), all of which Abbey handed well, although she had a habit of wandering off to other sections of the cluster; she was very thorough on the coloring, using pretty much every marker in the bin. In a Harbinger of Things to Come: the teacher had consistently misspelled her name on her nametag, paperwork, cubby label, drawer label, etc. etc. (spelling it Abigail, instead of Abigael; we kinda figured we'd have to put up with this sort of thing). When it was all over, we went to the cafeteria and Abbey had a popsicle with me and Kristi, and I was all bummed out. It wasn't a my-little-girl-is-growing-up thing, so much as, "I've just gone through all the first day of school stuff... and I don't get to go. No fair!!!!" Sigh. I miss school.
A quick aside: How long can I go on with the journal and continue to misspell Shawn Crete's first name? Old news: I am an idiot.
I am very happy that we finally have a date picked out (Sept. 24) for the next Game Night, or as I like to call it, Der Spielnächt. (Does anyone her speak enough German to tell me if a Spielnächt would be a "Der," a "Das," or a "Die"?) I was starting to go through withdrawal symptoms. Somehow, we've gone from a once-a-month thing to a once-every-other-week thing, with a danger of slipping into a once-in-a-whenever-we-get-around-to-it thing. This one should be good, though, because it's also going to be a de facto birthday party for about four people whose B-days fall around the same time. Whee!
I have no money. This will severely hinder my ability to buy CDs. *dramatic sigh*
I tuned into "Thirty Seconds to Fame" last night (which should tell you the quality of TV programming for the 8pm hour on Wednesdays right now), and promptly developed an infatuation with the Fyre Pixie, who sadly did not make the finals. The bounce pianist, on the other hand, did make it, which impressed me, since I don't think anyone in the audience has a clue as to just how ferking hard it is to do what he does. That's the trouble with juggling: the crowd goes nuts if you eat the apple, but the really difficult stuff goes right over their heads (pun, I swear, not intended).
It's only supposed to get into the 60's today. Yay! Autumn is here! Hooray! Now I get to cook soup and take long walks and contemplate converting to Wicca full-time and miss living in Oneonta and wear sweatshirts and sleep well. Warning to all: My annual Autumn-Weird-Out is nigh...
