Stop, Drop and Roll

This week is "Fire Safety Week" at Mikayla and Macey's DayCare. Yesterday, when I picked up Mikayla, her teacher, Ms. Sharon, told me that when they were discussing how to evacuate a burning house that Mikayla got upset and burst into tears. Ms. Sharon said that she comforted Mikayla and told her that her house was not on fire. Ms. Sharon told me that she thought Mikayla was upset about her house potentially burning, and to talk to her about it. When we got in the car, I started talking to Mikayla about why she cried, and she started to tear up all over again. When she was finally able to talk, she said, "Ms. Sharon said if my house is on fire, I have to leave. I won't have time to grab my favorite toy...*sob*...that means I won't be able to have cow!" So this whole time, Mikayla was upset because she wouldn't be able to save her cow, not because her house was potentially burning down. I told Mikayla that we could always get a new cow, but I couldn't ever get a new Mikayla. Then she told me that she didn't want a new cow, she wanted HER cow!

This morning, coming to school, I found out the hard way that a colony of ants decided that the perfect place to build a mound was right by our driveway - right where I stand to put Macey in her seat. As I was putting Macey in her car seat, I felt an itch, so I itched my leg with my opposing foot. As I walked around to Mikayla's side to buckle her in, I looked down, and my legs and feet were covered with ants - from the knee down. I started yelling, and I yanked off my shoes. I started hitting my pants to get the ants off them. I already had 20 or so bites on my feet and ankles. As I was brushing off all the ants, they got on my hands and arms, too. When I was finally ant-free, the adrenaline wore off, and I could feel the pain and itch. Off-handedly, I said, "My feet are on fire!" Remember how I said it's Fire Safety Week? Mikayla tells me, "Mommy, Stop, Drop and Roll!!"

"I am Not Impressed"

Last night, I decided to take the girls on a walk/bike ride to the park. Mikayla rode her bike, and Macey and I followed with the stroller. We were enjoying our time on the swings, crawling up the stairs, sliding down the slides and twirling on the merry-go-round.
Then I heard a little boy say, "What the F*#@!" I couldn't believe it. He couldn't have been but 9 or 10 years old - if that. Mikayla was on the merry-go-round with this little boy, and she decided to hop off. She grabbed a stick, and said, "watch this!" as she tried to break it in half. The same little boy started yelling at her that it was his stick and to give it back. Confused, Mikayla didn't know what to do, and she looked at me for what action she should take.
This sacred stick was a just a stick that was laying on the ground. It was the same as any other stick that could be found among the wood chips. The little boy proceeded to yank it out of Mikayla's hand. I'm thankful that at this point, Mikayla didn't start to cry. I think she as a little in shock at the situation. I felt that now I had to intervene.
I asked the boy if his name was on the stick, and how was a little girl supposed to know it was his? I told him that if he wanted the stick for himself, he needed to put it in a place that a little girl wouldn't pick it up, thinking it was an ordinary stick. I asked him how old he was, and he yelled at me that he was 9. I told him that Mikayla is only 4, and it's not nice to yank things out of other people's hands. He proceded to yell at me, and then I see his dad make a beeline for me. He starts yelling at me that I have no right to yell at his son, and holding his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, pointed in my face and told me to "mind my own damn business." They quickly left, then it was time for us to head hone, too. As Mikayla mounted her bike, she said to me, "Mommy, that little boy yelled at me, and I am NOT impressed!"