Deep Breathing and the Rage Inducing Policies of Kindergarten

Step back everyone, I'm about to vent.

While I'd like to say it all happened yesterday, the truth is lately there have been a few events (and people who will remain unnamed) that have really pushed me outside of my happy, little box of passivity.

And then yesterday happened.

It really started the night before when I realized that my aches and pains weren't just from carrying boxes and bags from one apartment to another. I was getting sick. So Wednesday morning, my lovely husband took on school duties to get little guy to school and, at least we had expected, pick him up. That was the plan until around 1:30 when I noticed I had a voicemail. It was little guy's school, he had had an accident and wet his pants.

So I grabbed some clothes and handed them off to my husband. "Here's a change of clothes, but see if they'll let you take him out early. There's an hour left of school anyway." And off my husband went.

About thirty minutes later, I was in the confused state of trying to accomplish something while sick. You know, when you think you're all better but then you find yourself trying to tie a broken rubberband around a pile of the previous tenant's mail while staring at a scribbled note to the postman and realizing the words "these people are gone" isn't really the best way to convey the message that the tenants have changed and then the pencil that you are trying to write with breaks and suddenly the three flights of stairs might as well be twenty so you just sit at the front steps hoping to catch the mailman. And then you realize you're still in your pajamas.

Yeah, that confused state.

That's when I see my husband walking up the front stairs with little guy.

"Hey, little guy, you're home early. What happened?" I asked.

"We're homeschooling him." My husband grumbled in response.


Thankfully my husband let me get upstairs and into the comfort of my blanket before telling me what happened because I was in no state to understand sitting there in the stairwell.

So, the school had called me to let me know little guy had wet his pants. They weren't calling so we would pick him up, or even come to change his clothes. They were calling to report his "misbehavior." The principal told my husband that we needed to find out what happened and why little guy had "misbehaved." Ugh, I hate that flipping word.

He asks little guy and this is what he said, "I was eating lunch and I had to go potty, so I put up my hand and no one saw me. Then lunch was over and I told the other teacher I had to go potty, and she said lunch was over. Then we went to the classroom and I still had to go potty, but my teacher said we had to do work, so I started to do my work."

There you go, folks. How in the world am I going to deal with this misbehavior? What therapy can I send my son to so that he learns to not follow the rules? Because I'm sure, if he had just walked off and gone to the bathroom without telling anyone that this would've gone over so much better.

But this isn't even the worst part. And typing out the rest is going to take a lot of restraint from me....

When my husband showed up with clothes, the ladies in the school office were confused. And when he made it clear that he didn't want little guy to be sitting in wet clothes for the rest of the day and that he would just change them, one woman, who my husband said was the principal, told him she couldn't let him into the bathroom with little guy for the safety of the other boys.

Because, you know, adult male. OOoooooOOOooh keep him away from the kids.

Seriously, what the flip is wrong with the world? The school would rather a child sit embarrassed in class than let a dad take his own son into the bathroom?

Restraint. Restraint. Restraint.

I need to take a breath before I continue...


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