This morning in the car Sabrina was singing something along the lines of "I like your funk. I like your funk. I like you [something else]. I like your [the same something else]. I like your funk. I like your funk...." And she went straight from that into Miss Mary Mack.
This evening Sabrina was practicing writing her name and after she wrote one of the letters stood up on her chair and said "I've got it goin' on!"
And one gripe:
While at her dad's house this weekend, Sabrina got a lunchbox. (Not actually a lunchbox, to be honest, but a tin box that LOOKS like a lunchbox.) Today she asked me if she could take a snack to school in it. A snack, mind you. Not lunch. The one time that I packed a lunch for her last year because she asked me to, she didn't eat it. She eats school lunch. I think everyone at her school eats school lunch. Anyway, a snack. I figured she wanted it for aftercare. I packed her a package of those horrid pre-cheesed crackers, grapes, and a juice. When I picked her up from school, she said "My teacher told me you need to give me a sandwich." Excuse me? 1. It wasn't supposed to be her lunch. 2. A lunch doesn't need to have a sandwich. 3. I'm tired of everyone at her school implying that I'm not a good parent figure. (Paranoid much? This morning the aide from Sabrina's pre-k class saw that she needed to wash her face--she had a bit of a milk beard, to be honest, and I had let it slide since I didn't notice it until we were in the car--and did that annoying mother thing of rubbing her thumb on Sabrina's face and then dragging her to the bathroom.) Wow, didn't mean to gripe for that long. Anyway, we went to the grocery store to buy lunch-appropriate foods, so if she doesn't want it anymore, I'm going to be (a little) annoyed.
Off to get tomorrow's lunch ready.
I have been thinking of you and owe you an email. With Corazon I had a similar issue in the school where everyone felt compelled to "parent" her because she was a "foster" child and they used that language with her. It drove me crazy. Other kids came to school filthy and in messed up/torn clothes (not kidding) and teachers would say things like "looks like you had fun painting this morning before school" while they would whisk her away to clean up some small ketchup stain or tell me how to do certain things (like feed her or comb her hair.) It was terribly frustrating!
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