Yesterday, I was feeling bad about sticking The Girl in the extended day option at her school (which meant I would pick her up at 2:45 instead of 1:30, which is when lunch bunch--already extended from the regular end of the pre-school day, which is 11:30). Extended day is not a very popular option among her classmates so we don't do it often, but I had a work-related appointment that I couldn't reschedule so off to extended day she went.
When I came to pick her up, she was sitting at the table, cutting and pasting her little heart out, helping one of the teachers make decorations for an upcoming mothers' day party. I had a twinge. The Girl is an artsy/craftsy sort--much more so than I am--but I don't know. Was this fun...enough?
We spent the rest of the afternoon, with The Boy where there was tennis and some incredibly complicated game on the monkey bars that combined Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and Strawberry Shortcake, and there may even have been some guilt-inspired ice cream (particularly tasty with rainbow sprinkles).
I asked about how extended day had gone, and The Girl said it had been boring. I told her that I was sorry she hadn't had more fun, but that I really appreciated her staying at school so that I could get my work done. And that was that.
Around bedtime, I heard The Girl describing her day to my husband, and she said, "I got to go to extended day because Mommy had to work." The "got to go" stuck with me. "Got to go" is good.
This morning I lay in bed listening to the rain and thinking of something fun The Girl, and I could do since I have no pressing work today. I was thinking about the aquarium or maybe chasing down the new grilled cheese truck in Stamford. I'd let The Girl pick.
"Is there anything special you want to do to day, just you and Mommy?" I asked.
She smiled and said wihout hesitation, "Mommy, can I do extended day again today?"