my daughter goes to school with a hugger. the hug lasts for an eternity (according to my daughter). it is the infinite hug. it is the energizer bunny hug that keeps on going, and going, and going. it is the STD hug that keeps on giving, and giving, and giving.
victoria loves affection. but not from the hugger. but not at school. but not all day long.
with only 11 more school days, we are looking forward to the end of kindergarten a.k.a 'kinderhuggin'.
we have learned nothin' from kinderhuggin.
victoria adamantly demands the obvious, "stop". but the hugger continues on in delusion. perhaps, "stop" in hugger language means "more". although, the two words sound not even a little similar.
unfortunately, i have witnessed this particular hugger in action. she wraps her arms tightly around the victim, hugs tightly, and forgets to let go. she hangs.
as for victoria, my daughter stiffly stands with her feet planted on the ground and her arms glued to her sides. victoria's stature resembles a wood plank. she is unwavering. she is unwilling. she is unhappy. her facial expressions tell all.
is this hugger socially inept? how can she not read body language or facial expressions at six years old? children are much more in tune with the world than adults. children can feel long before they can articulate.
we proceed to our car after school. victoria begins to unload now that we are in private. "i told her to stop. i told her i didn't want to catch swine flu from her. i told her 'no'. i told her that if my baby sister dies from her germs then my daddy will kill her." victoria continued on... "mommy, i hope you don't mind i used daddy's name. i didn't want to hurt your feelings because you would kill her too. but i said daddy because baby sister is his favorite (since i am your favorite and HE gave her brown eyes).
i sigh. i am exhausted. i can see the end. eleven more school days. this has been ongoing for one-hundred and seventy three afternoons. i am praying that the 'swine flu' threat will cease hugs. but i doubt it.
what else happened today?
victoria suddenly remembers, "when i said all those things to that hugger, i looked at her hard, i stared right through her almost". my head screamed at her: "my forehead reads 'stupidass' and my finger's pointing at 'you', how come you can't see them"?"
then with her giant kindergarten heart and mind, victoria explains, "don't worry mommy, it was just my head talking. i didn't say that out loud so i never really even said that bad word at all."
victoria loves affection. but not from the hugger. but not at school. but not all day long.
with only 11 more school days, we are looking forward to the end of kindergarten a.k.a 'kinderhuggin'.
we have learned nothin' from kinderhuggin.
victoria adamantly demands the obvious, "stop". but the hugger continues on in delusion. perhaps, "stop" in hugger language means "more". although, the two words sound not even a little similar.
unfortunately, i have witnessed this particular hugger in action. she wraps her arms tightly around the victim, hugs tightly, and forgets to let go. she hangs.
as for victoria, my daughter stiffly stands with her feet planted on the ground and her arms glued to her sides. victoria's stature resembles a wood plank. she is unwavering. she is unwilling. she is unhappy. her facial expressions tell all.
is this hugger socially inept? how can she not read body language or facial expressions at six years old? children are much more in tune with the world than adults. children can feel long before they can articulate.
we proceed to our car after school. victoria begins to unload now that we are in private. "i told her to stop. i told her i didn't want to catch swine flu from her. i told her 'no'. i told her that if my baby sister dies from her germs then my daddy will kill her." victoria continued on... "mommy, i hope you don't mind i used daddy's name. i didn't want to hurt your feelings because you would kill her too. but i said daddy because baby sister is his favorite (since i am your favorite and HE gave her brown eyes).
i sigh. i am exhausted. i can see the end. eleven more school days. this has been ongoing for one-hundred and seventy three afternoons. i am praying that the 'swine flu' threat will cease hugs. but i doubt it.
what else happened today?
victoria suddenly remembers, "when i said all those things to that hugger, i looked at her hard, i stared right through her almost". my head screamed at her: "my forehead reads 'stupidass' and my finger's pointing at 'you', how come you can't see them"?"
then with her giant kindergarten heart and mind, victoria explains, "don't worry mommy, it was just my head talking. i didn't say that out loud so i never really even said that bad word at all."
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