Hard on the heels of forgetting to send the kids rice for their lunch, which, for the record, was Amit’s slip-up, not mine, came another “little” goof-up.
Forgetting to send them rice happened on the day of my birthday, which was a little more chaotic than usual, because we all left home together in the same car and we had to be extra organized to do so and we had an extra load of stuff to pack because of the impending late night out and so on and so forth.
Amit, strangely enough, selected the following day, Wednesday, to send his car for servicing. This meant that following the late night, he had an extremely early morning ahead, when he had to clear all the rubbish (sorry, important stuff) and car seats out of his car and get to office extra early so that somebody could come and pick up the car for servicing. All of this he managed and he got the car back that evening. Thursday morning was still very hectic for him, because he had to put all the rubbish back in his car, along with the car seats, and then he had to put the girls in the car seats and drive them to school. Thursday was my day for tennis, which meant that I was sleeping late and could not be counted upon to help. Anyhow, he managed everything and got to school ridiculously early as he always does, only to find that, although he had got both the girls plugged in all right, he had only one pair of shoes between the two of them. The other pair was lying on top of a pile of empty cartons in the garage. Yeah. That’s what comes of having a garage large enough to stack piles of empty cartons and other such junk in.
Being the practical and level-headed fellow that he is, he carried Tara from the car to the classroom, much to her joy and Mrini’s amusement, and updated their teacher about the current oversight. “Have her carried to the school van and she’ll be fine,” he said, cavalierly. Lucky for him that the school teachers were not aware of the previous lapse in the matter of their lunch, or I don’t know what they would have thought of him and, by extension, us.
Of course the daycare teacher knew all about the oversight with their lunch. She had questioned me about the wisdom of not sending any rice the following day and I’d had to explain the whole thing to her. So she already was not very impressed with our efficiency. Now Amit wanted me to be the one to call her and tell her that Tara would be arriving barefoot at daycare today, but I flatly refused. “You’ve got to handle your own messes,” I said and handed him the phone. “I’m SO not getting involved in this one.” I, after all, would never have left either girl to manage without shoes for the whole day. I’d have either gone back home for the shoes, or gone and bought a pair at the nearest shop. What WILL they say when they grow up??
We found out later that the school teacher – or the assistant, perhaps – had sent Tara off wearing a pair of bathroom slippers; all kids are barefoot in class, which keeps the place clean, and they all share a few pairs of bathroom slippers when they go to the bathroom. The bathroom slippers are not quite appealing as a choice of footwear, really, because if you’ve seen kids between 3 and 5 years of age take themselves to the bathroom, in school, you have some idea of what all goes on in there; and the smaller the kids, the smaller the slippers, the messier they are likely to be; and the slippers Tara had on were as small as they could be; but I suppose it’s better than having to wander around barefoot.
Luckily, the girls don’t yet know how completely infra-dig it is to be seen anywhere wearing bathroom slippers. In fact, they both thought it was a bit of a lark. They didn’t seem to mind that the other kids were laughing at Tara. That’s the magic of being three-and-a-half. With great delight, she took the bathroom slippers back to school today and announced to Akka that she was returning them. There was nary a handsome prince in sight.
We have been sleeping at 10 p.m. the last couple of nights, so if we can catch up on our sleep deficit soon, then maybe we can stop being such immensely neglectful parents. Otherwise some social worker probably will come calling soon enough…