Once Upon a Nope

It recently occurred to me that maybe I needed to provide Julia with more structure in her day. After all, she is two mature years old and maybe she should be given some purpose-driven tasks and a little bit of responsibility aside from throwing diapers away, dutifully telling me I look "cute" when I change out of my jams, and putting the dirty silverware back in the drawer while chanting "helper!"?

destined to be the only high schooler with a bottle tucked into her Dora Trapper Keeper. 

I don't know. I'm a super novice and a real sucker for feeling guilty especially after hearing about the kinds of impressively inventive activities my fellow parents put together and execute on the daily for their little scholars.

So I left a sleeping Sebastian with a sleeping Simon yesterday and took Julia to the library's preschool hour. What? If that doesn't scream "impressive" and "inventive" to you I don't think we can even be friendly acquaintances. I had big plans to wash and fold an enormous load of whites (the most fun and not tedious kind of laundry) but I put my selfish wants aside and made the breaths-away-from-an-adolescent's needs a priority.

My mind's little wheels churned out questions. So many questions:
would 45 minutes would be enough time to quench the pupil's thirst for learning?
if not, should I make tentative plans to go to another preschool hour the next day at a different library?
was it important to mentally prepare Julia for the education voyage she was about to embark upon?
do my purpley-black toenails scream 'trashy mom'?

Let's cut to the action.

I felt triumphant after successfully getting Julia out of the van without her blankie (tag always tucked tightly under her nose) and bottle and even let the scholar walk into her domain although I always welcome a chance to carry her instead of her butterball boulder of a brother. 23 seconds in and things were looking sparkly. Then we strolled into the children's area of the library to be greeted by literal preschoolers with their little army of teachers and nary a parent in sight. My infant refused to join the gaggle of 4-year-old giants on the magic carpet and sat dependently on my lap while the nice librarian started talking about Halloween.

When it was Julia's turn to share her name the exchange went exactly like this:
Librarian: and what is YOUR name?
Julia:
Librarian: do you have a name?
Julia: Joo-wee-uh
Librarian: Drew! and what is Drew going to be for Halloween?
Julia: (whisper) doodle-doodle-doodle-do
Librarian: oh?  do you have a Halloween costume?
Julia: birthday!!

A+

Then the actual storytime started just as Drew spotted a huge display of Barney DVDs and couldn't stop gawking and squawking about the goldmine. She suddenly became aware of the fact that we were in a large room filled to the brim with packed shelves of books she had never ever seen and curiosity eventually slayed the kitten and she pulled 14 books off the lowest shelf before I could inhale deeply enough to give me enough momentum to heave my hips out of the 10-inch-tall primary colored chair.

We lasted 18 eternal minutes before I ducked out with the prodigy bidding a loud farewell to Barney while pinned tightly to my hip.

I took advantage of being a one kid gig and fulfilled my overachieving aspirations by braving Trader Joe's to purchase frozen vegetables for a healthy dinner and a decorative mini pumpkin for a festive table.

Edushmation.

We'll try again in a year or three and pray that her brain doesn't rot by way of Basher bossing, free-range play, and unscheduled days in the meantime.