“How ’bout these jungle stickers? They’re cute,” Mr. Candy enthused.
“Mmmm-hmmmm,” I half-nodded. I pointedly showed him the stickers in my hand. “These are the ones I picked out,” I noted, then waited for him to notice the glaring disconnect. He just smiled, oblivious.
“Ready to check out?”
“YOUR STICKERS DO NOT MATCH MY STICKERS!”
I should have bitten my tongue. I know. I wish I could have been a go-with-the-flow kind of gal. I really do. But this was Skylar’s first daycare assignment: a family collage, to be enhanced with stickers. Her first school assignment ever. The assignment that would — I don’t believe this is an overstatement — determine the bar for the rest of our daughter’s academic career, if not her entire life.
Jungle stickers with raised polka-dotted letters? I. DON’T. THINK. SO.
“Does that mean you want me to put them back?” my poor husband asked, puzzled, still clinging to his jungle stickers.
“I’m so happy you agree!”
I bought my stickers, selected the family photographs, assembled the collage, hijacked all of the fun — in short, had become a TOTAL HOMEWORK NAZI.
“What if you put that picture over here…?” Mr. Candy bravely suggested. I shot him a look. “Or… not.”
I don’t know what’s happening here, but I can tell you this: I am scaring myself. I didn’t care about my college finals as much as I care about my six-month-old kid’s daycare assignment. Hell, I apparently don’t care about my husband’s feelings as much as I care about an infant’s homework.
Baby sign language is the next assignment. I don’t need to study the chart to know which sign Mr. Candy wants to give ME right now.